"You're beginning to sound like the person you vowed never to become."
This is the story where one wrong decision leads to a dozen of others. Even if Scarlett tries to compensate for everything she's done, it all spirals downward.
author's note: i was supposed to post in lieu of april fools, however, i wasn't quite finished with it yet during that time. i hope you guys like it and if you do, don't forget to vote and comment. (all comments i receive really make my day)
[for Bree, ((despite the fact that you may not see this)) you have no idea how much I look up to you & how talented you are. hope you have a great day, love!]
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04 : kenopsia
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"I decide then that love is a terrible, terrible thing.
Loving someone as fiercely as my mom loves me
must be like wearing your heart outside of your body
with no skin, no bones, no nothing to protect it"
― Nicola Yoon, 'Everything, Everything'
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kenopsia (n) :
the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place
that is usually bustling with people
but is now abandoned and quiet.
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B E F O R E
HIS SVELTE FIGURE WAS ALL THAT I could make outat this point. The sliver of the light coming from the moon flowed from my bedroom window, giving the room a meagre amount of light. The ambience of the place set the tone of my thoughts – caliginous and misty but with a strip of hope that seemed very far off of my reach, far off of my fingertips – in lieu of everything that had transpired throughout this whole day.
Sombrely, he moved away from the window, turning his heel to face me with a look laced with sympathy and lips parting as a sigh escaped – and nothing more than that.
As the infinitesimal beams of light was eclipsed by the Venetian blinds, the shadows threw hollows on his protuberant jawline that was amplified by the clenching of his jaw, the indention of his dimple — despite the fact that his lips were tightly shut — and his angular cheekbones. The planes of his face were enough, just about enough, to tug the strings inside of me and snap me into an idle reverie that I couldn't be rid off facilely.
