Let Her Go (Already Broken Sequel) {J.B.}

Chapter 7

^Picture of Kayla^

~Justin's POV~

She got back to the house a little past midnight, and I wondered what she had been doing for that long. The nearest convenient store was just a mile up the road, and what should have taken her twenty minutes took her all of two hours.

I watched her as she walked up the driveway. Her hands were empty, clutching onto the sides of her jacket instead of a paper bag. Her hair was hidden by her hood, and I began to wonder if I looked as empty as her when I wore mine like that. I wondered if she ever caught herself looking at me in the way I'm looking at her right now, wondering where it all turned wrong. Wondering at one point we let ourselves go. It felt better knowing I wasn't the only one heading downhill; no matter how awful that sounded. It felt kind of nice to know that my feelings and morals weren't completely fucked up-- that it could happen to someone like her, too.

My breath hitched in my throat when I noticed her approaching the door; it both amazed and confused me how she still so easily grasped a hypnotizing affect over me. It was scary, almost.

I didn't want her to know I was watching her, so as I saw the doorknob twist I backed myself into the kitchen.

I heard her footprints pad against the marble flooring and it sounded like home. It made
me feel warm and it made things seem like they were back to normal just in that split second. I imagined how different a scenario of her walking through the door a year ago would have played out versus now. Things are so different, it sometimes takes me a while to even remember the way she used to say my name.

She didn't stop off at the kitchen like she usually does, instead she continued on her way all the way upstairs. I thought maybe she would have retraced and come back down, but then I heard her bedroom door shut.

I don't even want to talk to her. I'd really rather ignore her and have her ignore me. It'd be so easy. But there's a difference between want and need; and I need to talk to her. I've known what I wanted to say to her since the day she left... and all I want is to know why she would give up when I was so ready to keep fighting.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have left her alone but I'm selfish and I need this. I followed her steps up the stairs, finding myself waiting outside of her bedroom door.

The gentle sound of piano coming through the speakers of her MP3 player fled through the cracks of the door just barely, and I felt almost hurt that it wasn't something I'd written for her.

I raised my fist to knock, allowing my knuckles to just barely hit the surface of the door. She cracked it open a few moments later, her disposition sending a sense of familiarity through me. She always had that look about her, that look of otherness, that look that could make your thoughts of her wander off the edge of the world. She was so brilliant at making you feel like you were face to face with a work of art.

"H-hi," my voice was soft but I couldn't help the stagger; her eyes burned right through me and sent me to a stage of self awareness.

"Is the music too loud?" she questioned, her eyes scattering around our surroundings.

"No. It's not." I licked my lips and stiffened my neck, my jaw locking into place as it always does when I'm nervous. I didn't know what to say but I didn't want to stop talking to her. "You never used to listen to that kind of music." I was referring to the sounds of classical piano playing delicately in the background.