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Chapter 142

Your voice has stolen my soul

— The National, Afraid of Everyone

. . . .

I thankfully get back home safely after speeding out of the parking lot. I was terrified that I'd wreck from my tears blindfolding me, but I make it to my building intact. At this point, I don't care about homework or bringing my books inside. All I want is the trembling feeling of his freezing hands off of me.

I hide my face from anyone nearby, which looks a little suspicious, but the only thing I'm guilty of is getting myself trapped in yet another situation that leaves me tethered and bawling my eyes out. The elevator can't come soon enough. I'm jabbing the up button too impatiently and when the doors finally open, I purposefully stab the 'close doors' button so no one else can come in and most likely ask me if I'm alright. I feel the box shift then slowly rise up to my floor, but I begin to quiver when the elevator dings and the doors open on floor seven.

I blink away the tears, but it's evident that I've been bawling my eyes out. Rather than some stranger from the building, it's Noel. He has a curious frown on his face, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed together.

"Violet, what's wrong?"

I shake my head. I'm roughly biting down on my pointer finger knuckle to refrain myself from choking out even louder sobs than when I broke down in my car. He holds me against him to comfort me. He's warm, which soothes me slightly from the chilly weather outside and my shivering figure. A blend of fresh cigarette smoke mixed with cinnamon from his jacket grazes my nostrils and sends an unwelcomed nostalgic memory to trigger deeper emotions from only twenty minutes ago.

"It'll be alright. Al's upstairs. I'm taking you up to our place, okay?" He coaxes me and pushes the circular button for their floor.

I feel safe with him, and right now, all I need is a friend to help me through this miserable day.

The doors slide open after the machine chimes, notifying us of our destination. He pulls me down the hall and slides his key into the lock, twisting the handle and the door pushing open.

"Al?" He calls and kicks the door shut with his foot.

"Yeah?" She replies from the other room.

"I need you!"

She rushes out, and her jaw drops slightly and her brows raise in sympathy when she sees my running mascara and red cheeks. She takes over as consoler and pulls me towards their couches. My jacket is tossed onto the armchair and she sets my things aside for me.

"What's wrong?" She asks, concern pouring with every word and facial feature.

I don't reply. I don't have the energy, nor the courage to say it.

I feel weak.

"Violet, it's alright. You can talk to us," she pushes my tear-dampened hair away from my face and presses her soft hand to my forehead. "Noel, will you get her a cold washcloth, please?"

He leaves the room and walks the short corridor to get to the bathroom and returns with a dampened cloth. She presses the cool towel to my forehead then down over my cheeks.

"Talk to us, Violet."

Not once in the two minutes that I've been here, bawling my eyes out and having possibly the worst day of my life, has she gotten annoyed with me not talking and replying to her. She's so incredibly understanding and I appreciate her and him both being here for me, especially at a time like this.

I gulp down the lump in my throat and hold the sides of my pointer fingers against my lower lash line to collect some fresh tears. I sniffle but begin sharing what happened. I watch their faces transition from concerned, concentrated, upset, and then finally, heartbroken. Alec holds me to her body and lets me cry on her shoulder. It truly felt good to have someone else now understand what I'm feeling and be there for me.