Helpless (Book 1)

Chapter Fourteen

LAURENS HASN'T COME out of his bedroom for quite some time now. It's been roughly three hours since I last saw him, nearly five o'clock in the evening now. We're not supposed to leave for dinner until around six. I sit on the couch with my knees drawn to my chest, my feet on the edge of the couch, my arms wrapped around my knees to hold them in place and my chin resting behind my kneecaps. I close my eyes gently for a minute. I wish Lafayette were here. He'd know exactly what to do. But he's not. He's not here. I have to learn how to things on my own. That's what life is all about: going trials and errors. Sometimes you'll succeed, sometimes you won't. Sometimes you'll fail and that's okay. We can learn to fix our mistakes and to keep going. 

I frown deeper, slowly opening my violet eyes to find the blankness of the television screen and the fire starting to die down. I glance over my shoulder back at Laurens's closed bedroom door. He's been in there for quite some time...I should go check on him. 

So, that's what I do. 

 I sigh heavily, long and slow as I push myself up off the couch. I slowly walk to his bedroom, taking my time and trying not to disturb him. I stop just in front of his door, my arms still wrapped around my small, feminine like frame. I listen, pressing my ear against the door to see if I can hear what he's doing. I frown again, this time with curiosity. I can hear him talk to someone on the phone. His voice is muffled behind the door, but I can hear him nonetheless. I can faintly hear the other person on the other end of the line as well. He must have the caller on speaker. I can hear his footsteps against his floor and I can hear how panicky he sounds, how anxious he sounds. How terrified he sounds. I think he's pacing back and forth as he talks, probably occasionally running a hand through his honey blonde hair like I notice he would do whenever he's fidgety or anxious.

 "...I want to break up with her, Marty!" I hear Laurens's voice on the other end of the door. I furrow my brows together. Marty? "I can't stand this anymore! I don't love her!"

 A pause as "Marty" says something on the other end of the line. 

 "You don't get it!" Laurens snaps, his tone sharp and cold. His country accent rolling off of his tongue so easily. I can't decide if he's doing it on purpose or on accident. "I don't love her how hard is that for you to understand! I never loved her! You're supposed to be my sister! You're supposed to support me—" 

 A pause. 

 "Oh, don't you use Mom against me, Martha! Don't you dare play that card! I supported you when you first introduced me to your boyfriend!" 

Another pause. I hear Laurens groan. "I thought you were on my side, Martha! Not Henry's!" 

 Ah. Marty, short for Martha and Henry. Laurens's father: Henry Laurens. I never met the man in person, though I have seen him on television on the news and whatnot. I can hear Laurens's outburst dying down somewhat as he slowly begins to calm down. I can hear the bed creak as he flops himself down on it. I wish I could be in there to comfort him. But I wouldn't know how.

 "I'm sorry, Marty," Laurens sighs. "It's just...it's ridiculous, you know? I just...I don't love Manning. I love him." 

 My eyes widen a little. 

Him. 

He couldn't be talking about me, could he? Surely, he could be talking about someone else... I press my ear harder against the cold, metal door, my heart racing against my chest. 

 "No...no, he's not like Francis. He's...he's something else. He's...different. He's unique. He's mysterious. He's special. He's...kind and sweet and he supports me—"