Poisoned Letters

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ADAM LOCKE

I was lost in my thoughts, when suddenly I was jolted back into reality.
A slam caused by the apartment's door sent papers flying around the room. One drifted softly onto my lap. I glared at the front door to see a drunk Ivy slumped against the door.

She limped to her room, stumbling every other step, not looking in my direction or caring to explain.

"At least she's back," I thought to myself.

It seemed I had lost her too, and I couldn't bare another loss. Before I could understand what I was doing, I found myself walking into Ivy's room.

No hint of light anywhere in there, so dark and frigid and unmanaged. She was starting to show her true, hidden colors.

Clothes and other items had been thrown onto her unkept bed. She emerged from the darkness of her closet, hauling another item onto her bed.

Her suitcase.

† † †

She saw my perplexed expression, and turn to face me completely. We shared a long silence, avoiding each other's gaze. She nodded as if she was confirming what was going on in my head, and I knew...

I knew she was leaving me too.

"Where will you go?" I demanded.

"Somewhere far away," she replied seeming more sober.

I can tell she was being serious; her eyebrows formed deep creases on her forehead and her lips were trained on a straight line.

"Will you come back?" I ask, delving further into the situation.

She doesn't respond.

With that she zips her suitcase and drops it hard onto the floor. She pulls the handle up and makes a sharp turn to the front door.

"Does anyone else know you're leaving?"

"Is this because of the letter?"

I can tell she's in no mood to answer my questions. Her hand grasped the door's handle uncertainly, and when I said that last word in my last question, she finally faced me.

Her celadon green eyes are glued to mine. Her eyes have always had a mystery to it. She could seem crestfallen, yet her eyes tell a different story. They're always flickering with a different kind of emotion, gaiety. I envy how she could escape being accused of being forlorn just by looking at her countenance. I could never have that attribute, as my eyes are a dark shade of blue, which curses me with a depressed look in my eyes. However, this one moment in her life, her eyes share the same story as her feelings.

Another moment of silence is shared. I'm tearing up and she notices. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words don't come out. I interrupt her attempt to talk to break the silence she formed.

"So that's it? You're just going to leave alone to fend for myself?" I'm horrified by her actions. Chastising her seemed like the only option at the time.

She opens her mouth to speak again, and this time something escapes her lips.

"Adam-"

I interrupt her again.

"Go ahead and leave me like everyone else did. The moment you step out that door, don't think about coming back. Be the coward you've always been."

I'm angrier at myself than I am at her. I know it wasn't her fault our parents are gone, and I know our parents didn't want to leave us to fend for ourselves, but I couldn't help myself from accusing her.

She let out a sob, but suddenly bit her lip so nothing else could escape her mouth. She slowly opened the door and stepped out. Halfway through she stopped and looked at the floor. She then spoke her last words.

"I love you, Adam."