Being with Richie was one of the worst things I'd ever done. He was heartless and cruel; with a 'love' that ruined me entirely.
"God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts. I guess the loneliness came knocking, no one needs to be alon...
"I couldn't say much, I was distracted. You seemed so anxious like you had something to hide. Tell me it's nothing, I don't believe you. I know that look you get when you're about to lie. I feel so stupid."
Chapter Theme Song: 'I Still Say Goodnight' by Tate McRae.
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Becca
Sundays always started with bright, upbeat, old-time music. Mom cleaned the house early while I tried to help her with the laundry. We then cooked and finished in time for her 12:00 pm book meet.
The distraction was good, but while sliding the batter into the oven, I got a flash of my 'battered' self lying on Colt's cold floor and almost dropped the pan. Mom had insisted I went up and got some rest, but I couldn't.
Keep distracted. I needed to keep distracted.
Sarah's old van hummed out front just as I tore off the apron and placed it on the counter. I quickly escaped to my room because I was all for distractions but not interactions.
I grabbed my physics notebook and tucked myself under the covers.
I didn't know when or how, but I'd lost touch with the world around me almost instantly. I hardly slept the night before, so as soon as I wrapped myself in bed, the darkness of a dreamless sleep sucked me away. Dreams were oftentimes what you'd wish for in reality. I had none that day. It was as though there were no more hopes for me, no more wishes. No more aspirations. No more wants. Just a dull nothingness.
In my shallow slumber, I felt a thin gust of wind, and my eyes fluttered open to see Mason's face mere inches from mine. He wasn't looking at me, but at the floor. My eyes widened at the closeness, and I shuffled away, bringing my covers up to my chest. "W-what are you doing?"
His eyes narrowed slightly from behind his glasses, and he cut his brooding gaze off me and to the floor. "Picking up your book..." He said flatly, his breath minty, as he took my notebook off the floor and placed it on the bed. He met my eyes again, cocking his head to the side. "What? Thought I was tryna' touch you in your sleep or something?"
His tone dripped with annoyance, and I shuffled upright, pushing my damp hair back from my face. Sweat trickled between my boobs and down my back. The bed was wet too. "That's not it. You were just awfully close to my face..."
"Yeah." He said slowly, as though I was obtuse. "Because I was picking the book up..."
Right. I rubbed my arm, looking down at my purple sheets. Mason wasn't a scary-looking guy, though he'd watched his dog attack me the other day, but somehow the moment I opened my eyes and saw him squatting there, my heart raced. It raced almost as fast as it did when Richie was hovering above me, warning me to stop talking...
I closed my eyes as Mason walked over to the small table in my room. There was this silly hyper-awareness, that maybe I'd overreacted so badly that he had picked up that something was wrong with me.
