Luna's POV-
Belle's weary gaze meets mine, ever shifting uncertainty fills the void between us.
"Luna," her eyes are pleading, for what? I don't know.
"Yes?"
"I leave in the morning," she repeats for the thousandth time. Impatiently, I shift my gaze to my wristwatch. Nine-oh-five.
"Luna," she stammers. Still I have nothing to say in response. My hands wander to the uneaten piece of bread lying in the middle of the table on a plate of olive oil. Before devouring it, I nod in Belle's direction, the question obvious enough.
"No, I'm not hungry," she murmers. Her eyes are cast downwards, her thumbs dancing circles around eachother. Stray hair has fallen across her face in a sideswept curtain of blue. Memories arise, one's I had thought I had forgotten long ago. How many times have I heard her utter those words? When she was being driven to the hospital. The innocent phrase now carries a weight, a burden on both of our shoulders.
I purse my lips, uncertain of what to say. A million words are too many for a small statement. She doesn't give me the opportunity to respond.
"Why are you angry with me? You're the one who hit me. I should be the one who's angry," she says, almost to herself
My fists clench under the table. Always with this topic.
"Don't do this," I say through gritted teeth.
"Why? You never answered my question. Somehow you always blame me and I constantly wonder what the hell I did," she counters.
She knows she will only be met with resistance the more she pushes me. She knows me. She knows how to get under my skin and push me to my limits, as we both do.
"Belle, not here," I whisper, dripping anger into every word, my temper rising like boiling water.
"Then where, Luna?" She raises her voice, earning a glare from the table next to us.
"No where! Not anywhere! Not ever!"
She opens her mouth to interject, but I cut her off once again before she can speak.
"Listen. I know what I did but you should be well aware of what you did too. You broke my heart. Stop playing this game of innocence," I let ice drip from every word. She knows.
"You almost killed me!" She says in defiance.
I meet her stormy gaze with one of my own. The scars on her face stand out more than ever now. Slicing right across her cheek, along with my heart.
"Why was Brooke with you? You said you were going to kill yourself. Usually that's not an occasion I bring my friends to," I shoot at her.
"We were just talking," she says weakly.
"With what? Your legs?" I counter.
She gasps in disbelief.
"You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you? You think I wouldn't have even shown my face on the evening you told me you planned to end your life? You never did accept how much you were loved. I came to your house that night." She knows what I'm getting at, I think to myself.
"She loved me," she says half-heartedly.
An icy claw grips my chest.
YOU ARE READING
Flesh.
Romance"Why didn't you stop?" The scars engraved in her face, features as prominent as her eyes and nose, blame me for their existence. She was the nightmare that plagued my dreams for months now -- a manifestation of my greatest mistake. I can't escape he...
