The Arrangement

Chapter Thirteen

The world hasn't moved in eight days, it's stopped spinning, and everything has come to an abrupt and crushing stop, the colours of the world have dulled to a muted grey and every blink causes pain to spike across my eyelids.

At Mum's request I slapped concealer over the bruises that cover my eyelids and swell my under-eye bags unattractively, the black dress feels too tight across my chest despite the way Mum had to pin the top closer together, so it didn't sag around my collarbones.

I don't have the energy to focus on anything but the animated gaming poster that Bentley had stuck to his wall with a stapler, when he had first sent me a picture of his decoration it had made me laugh. For one because he had played the game three times and only chose it because I had poked fun at his bland walls last year, and two, because instead of going downstairs for blutack he grabbed the stapler from his desk draw.

The third reason was that he had chosen that over the plethora of designer art pieces that Mum and Dad had been trying to get him to choose since they saw it the first time. Despite the fact that none of their guests ever ventured into his room, our parents were both appalled at the scrappy poster making holes in the old, stripped wallpaper.

The memory now feels like someone is sinking a knife into the middle of my chest and twisting it around, the sinched waist of the black dress digs into my stomach. The edge of the soft fabric brushes against the beige tights that cling to my legs, curled up against my heaving chest.

The sound of footsteps clicking along the hallway outside his bedroom has stinging eyes fluttering closed, the exhaustion that has settled deep in my bones doesn't allow any energy to deal with Dad telling me I shouldn't be in here. I don't touch the locked bathroom door, but the ache in the centre of my chest only lessens when im surrounded by him again.

It's the closest I will ever get to feeling his arms around me again, the further I am away from everything that smells like him the more real it feels. Logically I know he's gone, that he left me, but I keep running before the truth can sink in entirely.

A snarky retort bubbles up my throat, ready to be fired when Dad finally speaks up and demands me out of his bedroom. I think it's the guilt and shame that has them wanting to lock all the doors reminding them of him, like the feeling won't follow them around if they can't see his things.

Soft fingers slide down my damp cheek, the makeup I used to conceal the grief long dripped onto Bent's dark pillow, the sweet smell of Sophie's perfume seems to thud through my body. The second her shimmering green eyes come into focus, a loud, choked sob breaks through the wall of exhaustion and my face is buries itself in his pillow.

One of her arms slides under my neck and the other slides around my waist as she pulls me close to her, forehead pressed against the side of her head as the familiarity and safety wraps around me.

It wasn't hard to push everyone away from me, the thought of letting myself love anyone the amount I loved Bentley only to lose them is all the reason I needed to get away from them. The risk of feeling this again would destroy me, this already has and giving out emotion that I don't have to spare makes my eyes burn.

Sophie has been the only one I have been willing to speak too, calling repeatedly and sending sternly worded text messages until I answer. I thought perhaps she had listened to my demands of not wanting to see anyone but reluctantly I must admit, that seeing her is the most relief I have ever felt.

"I'm so sorry," Sophie whispers into my hair, my tears soaking into her black woollen sweater, fingers tightening against the back of my dress. "I know you didn't want me to be here, but I wasn't letting you do this alone"