𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇, tom holland

19 ⋟ wisdom teeth

𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐
(𝚊𝚍𝚓) 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑, 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜

"Quick. Fuck, Marry, Kill—but with all the Chris's of Hollywood," Lilah said, putting her feet up on the dashboard.

Tom groaned. Him and Lilah had been driving for two and a half hours, and though he could never get tired of her voice, he was just so bored. Also it was a very difficult question.

He thought for a moment. "Fuck Hemsworth, because . . . you know. He's hot."

Lilah nodded her head in agreement, stuffing a cheeto in her mouth.

"Marry Evans because he's a big teddy bear, and—well I guess that leaves Pratt. Sorry man," he said to no one.

"Well at least now you have your answer prepared for when someone asks you."

Tom made a face. "Why would somebody ask me that?"

She shrugged and looked out her window. Lilah's parent's house was around three hours outside of Atlanta, and that's where Tom was driving. While doing the scene, trying to make herself cry, Lilah thought of only one person. Her sister, Eveline.

She recalled all the times when Eveline had subtly dropped hints about wanting Lilah to talk to her, telling her to come get her—and thought the worst. That's what triggered the weeping.

Not Tom, not any of her new friends, not her parents. Her sister.

Anabel, Lilah's other sister, had never been close with either of them. She did her own thing, was stuck in her own damn mind all the time, and avoided talking with them at all costs. But while all three girl's parents left them home alone, which was most nights, and Anabel was cooped up in her bedroom, that left Lilah to take care of Eveline.

Lilah used to read books aloud to her, and tuck her in at night, when she was only seven and eight years old.

But when Lilah turned nine, she shut everybody out, a smile never crossed her lips, and only recently had she realized—to her younger sister, Lilah must have seemed like just a worse version of Anabel. And it hurt. But it wasn't Eveline's fault. There was a reason Lilah had closed the door on everyone. She just didn't know if she was ready to say what the reason was.

"We're here," Tom said. Lilah snapped out of her thoughts and looked out of the window again. Sure enough, her childhood home stood, a cookie cutter print out of the ones beside it. Lilah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tom asked, "Do you want me to come with you? Incase something happens?"

"No," she said quickly, then unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of his car.

She approached the front door; her feet felt like dead weights in her shoes. Slowly, she raised an arm and lightly knocked on the chipped red painted door.

No noise was heard from inside for about two minutes, and Lilah glanced back at Tom, who was waiting patiently in his car. She gave him a tight lipped smile and turned back to the door. It clicked open.

A tall young woman, her sixteen year old sister, stood in the threshold. Lilah's lips parted, and her heartbeat became faster paced. She hadn't realized how much one could miss another person.

Eveline's arms fell slack at her sides, and she just stood there. In shock, she supposed.

Lilah ran a careful eye up and down Eveline's tall and skinny body, discreetly. Looking for any injuries. And sure enough, when Lilah reached Eveline's face, a small cut crossed over her bottom lip, a bruise on her chin.