Trust Me. I'm Lying - (SLOWLY EDITING)

Of Someone Who Listens And Understands: Chapter 22

"I fell in love with

the way you entered

a room like both

April and May -

coming in out of the cold

with the promise to

grow flowers in the

vacant places in my chest."

—Lucy Quin.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

Of Someone Who Listens and Understands.

Let me mention a few things I fear. Moths, first of all. But not little moths-no. Big-ass moths, the ones that are pure black giant butterflies. Why? Because I once picked one from the ground when I was little by accident, and it opened its disgusting black, enormous wings in my hands. I cried and got a rash that lasted weeks in my arms and the palms of my hands.

I fear failure. Mainly the fact that I do not wish to be in my death bed, looking back at my life and feel hollow. Like, I don't want to waste my life. I want to look back and know I did something with the short amount of time I have on this earth.

I fear my Dad coming back and somehow hurting us once again. Sometimes I have nightmares about that. Other than that, the rest of my fears are stupid and have no much meaning to them. For instance, to be hurt. Not a single human being on this planet isn't afraid of being hurt. I generally disliked crabs—the bastards walking backward was very eerie.

Had you asked me my fears one week ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell you my newest addition.

Carson and I went down the stairs, he was leading the way, but I had a certain feeling he would've closed the door to his bedroom and locked it. Me inside and everything. Even the back of his neck was white as a sheet. Unlike me, probably. I felt like I was in a trance. I literally could not feel my legs. My hands were shaking so much that I balled them into fists to keep them somewhat steady. Meeting Zoe Donovan was not an experience I was looking forward to when I dressed myself this morning.

At least I looked at what you could call half-way decent. I was wearing black jeans with my ever-present black Converse, a white cotton sweater that was super comfy, and a green army jacket that used to be my brother's. My hair was in its usual ponytail. I kept reminding myself that I looked good.

Presentable, at the very least. This thought did not make me feel any better.

The end of the stairwell came way faster than I wanted. The voice had come from the kitchen. When we were on the first landing, Carson took my hand. "Don't be nervous."

"Look who's talking," I tried to sound sarcastic, but even my voice was shaking. It was cold despite the sweater and jacket. "And who says I'm nervous?"

Carson laughed, then gulped. He was holding my hand tighter than it was necessary. Like he needed the support more than me. It made me want to laugh hysterically. "I think a vampire would have more color than you at the moment, Bells."

"Ha!"

"She is so going to love you," Carson promised. I would be lying if I said I didn't hear the ultimate certainty in his voice. "You'll see."

I nodded, still not believing him.

I was practically hiding behind Carson's back when he entered the kitchen. Just this once, I was happy I was so tiny. Zoe had her back to us. She was putting groceries in the cupboards over the sink, humming a pleasant tune.