Livia Dawn knew it was a bad idea to follow three guys, who were probably criminals, into the woods.
Mistake number 1...
Now, her once quiet life will consist of things she only read in her books. Secrets, Romance, conflict, and maybe, just maybe, s...
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~42~
The days have been dragging on. Confined to the house I refuse to leave, I get bored easily. I stare at walls when I eat, zoning out until my food gets cold and I simply toss it away. Making pointless conversation with the guys and sometimes the girls when they come over. I don't mean to break away from the topics, or even let them fizzle out. I just have a lot on my mind.
Colby's fucked up betrayal.
I haven't spoken to him or even acknowledged his presence. I don't leave my room until he is gone and I make sure to be back in my room before he gets to the house. If there is a time he is here during the day, though there have been very few, I ignore his mere existence.
He made it clear he wasn't going to tell me who was after me and why, so why would I talk to him at all? "I'll talk when you do," is what I told him the night of the shooting, not waiting for a response before walking away. That was 5 days ago. A long time, the longest I've gone without talking to him.
One step forward, two steps backs is what I'd call our relationship. It was going well, great even. I saw a side of him I never thought possible. A sweet and generous side. But then he decided to withhold information that puts my life at risk? How am I supposed to trust him?
I have moved past my anger and now a deep sorrow fills my heart.
Because even though he's broken all trust with me, I still miss him. I miss the little things he'd do. Make me small dinners before he left for a night job, sneaking into my bed when he returned. How he'd smile at me out of the corner of my eye when I was doing simple things like reading on a couch. How he'd tease me about silly things I'd do that didn't seem that silly to me. Like eating the tail off a shrimp. We laughed, and I made fun of him for not liking pickles in return.
It was the small things. And now, I refuse to even look at him though I missed his sweet flawless features. I couldn't face him without reliving our argument and feeling all those emotions over again.
I think he understood that as well. And by him respecting my wish not to acknowledge him, I think that means he really wasn't going to tell me anything. Because if he was really thinking about telling me, he'd put up more of a fight. And even though I wanted to ignore him, it still hurt he wasn't doing anything about it.
Maurice has been the only person who's brought me real joy. He keeps me company when no one is home, and even keeps me company when they are. He invites me to assist him on small tasks like reorganizing shelves, dusting areas he cannot get to on his own, and I've even shown him a few cooking recipes I've discovered during my stay here.
We can spend hours talking about life and what is so great about it is that he isn't talking to me because he knows I'm hurting. He enjoys my company and I enjoy his. I love hearing about his life, about his daughter whom he hasn't spoken to in years. He's told me pretty much his life story and the lessons he's learned while growing up. He holds such wisdom I can't even find in books. It's comforting.
