Sequel to 'Choices'.
When he said, "It's no where near enough-" he really did mean it after all.
Hardin Scott has held a stunning record at breaking hearts, especially when he is served Theresa Young's.
Bleeding in love, Tessa has concluded that pe...
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"So, in this scene, we have Iago trying to get Cassio drunk, so he gets out of control and-"
I sit in the front row in a haze, finger drumming on my script in my lap, as Professor Graham explains the scene to the actors. I look ahead at the empty stage, dimly lit, and my wind wanders.
It has been three days since- since Hardin and I had been locked in the gymnasium. And all this while, a wild flood of questions had been raging in my head.
I can't breathe Russo! I'm going to die, I don't want, to die! Just open the goddamned door!
Hardin was not claustrophobic, back when I knew him in high school. We had been in closed rooms earlier, and he was perfectly fine with it. He had never even flinched in darkness. So what happened during this period- from then to now, what is it that happened- that I don't know. And Trevor does. It was there on his face, he knew it, he understood it.
Why would Hardin talk about d-dying? Has he had some sort of an- accident?
It's terrifying to even think it, and my head starts hurting. But that has got to be the only explanation.
It was very evident that he was in a trance. The whole episode was so intense, that he had started living in a different sphere, rather reliving some incident.
How did you know I was here?
You're not understanding, she has fainted, I have to get her out, I have to get out.
It's getting late, Russo it's getting too late.
I'll do anything, please, I'll never hurt you, I'll never trouble you, I won't hold you hand again, I'll never even come close to you, but just- just let me out!
Hardin was not guilty. Whatever he had done, he had made it very clear, that he was not guilty about it. And his attitude with the whole betrayal clearly said that given the opportunity, he would definitely trouble me again.
But there, he regretted it, he begged and he pleaded- just, to be let out. It has to be bad.
You hate me- and I hate you. You should go- you can't- I can't-
Be okay- don't- be-
My relentless firing of the nerves halt in a jerk, as the moment replays in my head when Hardin pulled me away from the door. He had been- in a devastating state, yet he had saved me from getting hurt.
Not once, during the whole thing had he called me anything other than Russo. I remember him holding me like oxygen, burying himself in my embrace, his panic stricken face against my elbow, as his panting breaths had reverberated all through me.
I had felt a strange mix of things- ranging from happiness to be there to comfort him, protectiveness to keep him okay, pained to watch him so scared- and a guilty nervousness of all this being a lie again.
