Wicked Love | √

Thirty One

I tug the belt around the waist of my winter coat tighter as I brace myself against the cold windy night.

The large iron street lamps tower above me with a warm glow as my old boots crunch against dead leaves and left over rock salt from the light snow dusting we had yesterday.

Besides going to my classes I've been holed up in my room the last few days hiding from Preston as well as my roommates.

I've completely secluded myself and I hate myself for it, but I've also never felt lower and less like myself than I do right now.

I feel totally lost, and utterly confused.

But tonight I gather what little strength I have left in my bones and decide to head to the library to study since finals are in a month. I know I need to get a jumpstart on my studying to achieve the grades I want this semester. Tests and assignments might be flowing easier because of my tutoring sessions with Preston from earlier in the semester, but that doesn't mean I don't have to still work my ass off.

I wrap my scarf around my neck in an attempt to warm and console myself. It's cozy and fuzzy, and the exact opposite of the bitter loneliness that has suddenly taken over my entire life.

A group of girls breeze right past me laughing and eagerly talking. Their arms are linked and by the way they are dressed I can see they are headed out. It's Wednesday, which means a few of the downtown bars run ladies night specials with cheap drinks and shot deals.

The ache that strikes my heart is so sudden it causes me to stumble over my feet a bit. Elizabeth would've loved it if I suggested we go out. But instead I'm letting myself fall backwards. Back into my roots. Back into being that small person that hides. I detest that I'm reverting back to that person. I've grown so much this year, but my insecurities have weakened and wrecked me.

On a deep sigh I straighten my spine and force myself to continue to move forward as the frigid wind bites angrily against my now rosy cheeks.

I turn the corner to see the library stand tall in front of me, and I let out a content sigh. It's the one place that still makes me feel like myself. The moon reflects brightly against the stained glass windows and I can see people moving inside. It might be late but the library around this time of year stays consistently busy.

I'm walking up the front steps when a loud, almost deafening, pop explodes from above me. I halt in my boots and back away from the building to see something flickering from the top of the library.

Then I hear a shocked scream.

A boom sounds that makes the hairs on my arms stand up and a chill race down my spine. The sound is followed by the sharp cracking of glass. Shards go flying everywhere, the colorful glass glittering in the moonlight as flames begin to rage above it.

It's a fire.

And my heart sinks when I realize it's happening in the attic. Preston's attic.

A whimper escapes me brokenly as I try to not fall to my knees at the realization. Flames ravage wildly as alarms begin to blare in the building and students and teachers come flooding out in waves from the library. Everyone's terrified and scrambling to get as far away as possible.

But I stay frozen.

Some bystanders begin to stop to watch alongside me, but no one understands the fear that grips me so tightly I can barely breathe.

My stomach twists so hard I have to bite my bottom lip to stop from releasing the contents of my stomach all over the frosted sidewalk.

Sirens ring in the air and flashbacks of that night seven years ago hit me so hard I begin to sob, not caring that people are now curiously staring at me.