Chapter Twenty-Five: Gone
The sun rose the following day and the birds sounded chirpier than normal.
Over the course of the six hours that Lilian had managed to get a shut-eye, her sobs became silent and, eventually, they stopped.
As for Beatrice, her sleep was almost sleepless. She tossed and turned and huffed and puffed. Beatrice had a racing mind and it almost seemed dangerous. She had a rough life back home and Lilian was there to sweep up the broken girl and take her in as a sister; a sister she'll have to leace to fend for herself when she's no longer alive to do so - it's the harsh truth.
Beatrice rolled over and her hand mindlessly roamed the bed in search for Hayes. She was confused when the search turned up empty. Sitting up quickly, her eyes roamed the room, and even took a peek into the living room from the crack of her door, to see where the blue-eyed boy went. His mysterious persona was no longer in the small apartment; strange.
Knowing Hayes, Beatrice would expect at least a letter letting her know where he went with his whereabouts. So, looking at his pillow, her bedside table, and the bedside table on his side, she turned up with nothing. This wasn't like him. At last, she checked her phone just in case he texted her after all.
Nothing.
Beatrice grew annoyed, and possibly a tad bit angry. She grabbed her cellphone off of her charger and ringed his number. She was put to voicemail.
"Hey, Hayes," she huffed, obviously only doing this to show him how horrible she feels that he left her in the middle of a crisis. "Where are you? You didn't send a text or even leave a letter. I know we aren't dating so that can't make me a clingy girlfriend, but what the hell? At least let me know you're okay."
She ended the call and threw her phone on the pillow next to her, huffing, and running her hands through her knotty, purple locks. Instead of worrying too much about him, she decided to check on Lily. She walked barefoot to the small room parallel of hers, and opened the door a tad bit.
Lilian's head lay on the foot of her bed and her makeup was smeared. Approximately three pillows surfaced the floor and a bucket of, ew, throw-up accompanied her living space. Normally, when Lilian had a sick stomach from partying all night, she slept beside the toilet to make sure the aroma never changed from her perfected Bath&Body odored room. This was an exception.
Feeling bad, Beatrice didn't wake Lilian, but she helped her lay comfortably on her mattress (her head where it should be and her feet very close to the edge; she would've needed a larger mattress, but she was never really home or conscious enough to take care of the deed), and she took it into her hands to take the bucket of throw-up and throw the whole thing in the dumpster outside.
If this is how it has to be, she's going to have to get used to it.
Y'all it's been 170 years, but I'm back. This story might not be though :-( I had ideas for it, but it's gone to trash :/ maybe I'll make a different Hayes fic, but this one isn't going to make it :-( thanks for sticking with me though !!
