Masterpiece [h.s]

twenty three

Carter's phone starts ringing obnoxiously around seven in the morning. Harry hadn't called her at all the night before, which was really strange, and she jumps to answer it despite how ungodly of an hour it is.

Her voice is groggy and a little breathy and the corners of her lips lift up in a soft smile as she answers, "Hi."

The smile isn't there for very long. Someone's crying on the other end and it certainly isn't Harry. Confused, Carter pulls her phone from her ear to check the caller ID.

Of course, it's a number that she doesn't have in her contacts and she has no idea who the hell is on the other end.

Carter clears her throat to rid her voice of that scratchy early morning quality and sits up while running a hand through her messy hair. "Um...hello?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry, Carter."

The voice is extremely familiar, "Aurora?"

More sniffling, crying, and 'I'm sorry' follow and Carter sighs, her free hand lifting to rub the sleep from her eyes.

"Please calm down. What are you sorry for?" It's too early in the morning for this. How did Aurora even get her number anyway?

A smothering and strange silence follows for much longer than Carter likes before Aurora finally spits it out in a rush of tangled words. "HarrywasdrunkandthoughtIwasyouandIsleptwithhim."

Carter nearly drops her phone, "W-what?"

Whatever she said was said so fast that it was hard to comprehend, but she did manage to catch "Harry," "drunk," and "slept with him" and suddenly she can't breathe. There are tears in her eyes, but she's too busy trying to make sense of things to care or to wipe them away.

In a hardly audible voice, Aurora repeats herself less hysterically. "Harry was drunk last night and he thought I was you and I—I slept with him. I'm so sorry. I know that I shouldn't have and I-"

Carter's heard enough and she hangs up before Aurora can finish whatever excuse it is that she has for sleeping with Harry. She carelessly drops her phone on the bed behind her and stares blankly out the window and at the city that she's admired for weeks.

Suddenly, it's no longer beautiful to look at.

The curtains are closed immediately and Carter heads to the bathroom next. She flicks on the lights and stares at herself in the mirror like she's some kind of science experiment. Everything that she sees disgusts her.

She pokes at her cheeks, pulls on her lips, and messes with her hair. It doesn't matter though because she doesn't feel good about herself anymore, just like the last time this happened. She thinks that it's her fault because she isn't pretty enough to keep a man's eyes from wandering and keep his loyalty.

Carter turns off the lights and picks up the throw blanket that she left on one of the chairs the night before. She climbs into bed and sits directly in the center, wrapping the blanket around herself as tightly as she can manage.

She blankly stares at the white comforter beneath her and, before she knows it, she's crying. She isn't crying for Harry though: she's crying for herself because she actually thought that things would be different this time around and she let her guard down when she shouldn't have.

"I'm so stupid...I should've known..."

Time passes faster than she thinks and there's a knock on her door forty minutes into her self-loathing session. Carter hastily wipes her eyes before weakly calling out, "W-who is it?"