Alive (One Direction)

five

Violet Payne

"Violet? You're spacing again..."

"S-sorry." I mutter, handing over the only paperback version of The Scarlet Letter to the waiting customer.

The black-coated man in front of me doesn't ask me any questions, thankfully. He just nods, takes the book, and leaves.

He is one of our regulars, I believe, but there hasn't ever been a time I saw him that I was fully functional.

I heave a sigh and finger one of the old-fashioned register keys, tracing their outline slowly before thrusting it downward.

Our eighth sale of the day.

"Do you know how huge this is? We just sold a paperback copy of The Scarlet Letter!" Jess smiles, looking down at her boyfriend and I proudly.

"AMAZING!" Chris yells back to her enthusiastically, giving us a thumbs up from the storeroom only five feet away.

"Fantastic." I mutter half-heartedly, surveying the small, cramped space between us.

Jess stands seven feet to my left, dusting the one of the many sinlge-paned windows perched so high I can barely see her at all.

Crooked, dusty bookshelves hang from all sides of the store at all angles, bordering the small windowpanes easily and shielding their frugal amount of glass from the inside out. The space inside Olive Books is minimal, barely enough room for Rose, Chris, and I to stand, let alone any customers.

The atmosphere is dreary, yet I must come here everyday after school to avoid Liam and his odd mood swings.

It is like a living nightmare, not that I would tell anyone that.

Jess and Chris are lovely people, even if they are Liam's old friends.

They're his age, barely, but act like an old married couple while running their small business.

I try to picture Harry here with me, helping me carry boxes of unpopular books up and down the small suburban street.

But I can't.

He would storm into the shop and scold me for letting Liam treat me this way.

Then he'd sigh, grab the box from my arms, and tell me I deserve better than this.

He'd tell me I should move out of Liam's parents' house to live with him instead.

I'd tell him he was crazy, he'd scowl.

But after that it would all be okay.

I shake my head from going mad, blinking tears from my eyes and steadying myself on the countertop.

The memories come back in flashes.

I can't help but see them, nor try to help stop them.

Being trapped in here only reminds me of Harry's predicament, day after day. It reminds me there is nothing I could do except hope he remembers absolutely everything.

Especially the locket.

He didn't tell me it was dangerous to possess.

He didn't tell me that it was crucial I destroy it as soon as possible.

He didn't tell me that's what they've been after the entire time.

But yet I still have it, tucked underneath many layers of fabric.

Harry instructed me to throw it over the bridge and watch it sink to the bottom of the river as soon as I could.

But I can't bring myself to do that.