Realize Your Potential (H.S)

Chapter Fifty-One

I still don't know what to do later that night. I've replayed Nat's words in my head over and over again, but I don't know what to do with them. Or maybe I'm just not ready to do something with them.

So now I'm trying to find guidance somewhere else. That somewhere else being Styles' copy of The Bell Jar.

I've avoided it long enough and I know now that I need to read it. I need to go through every page and try to think what he thought while he read it. Or feel what he felt. I need to know what he experienced when he touched and turned these pages – even if it doesn't answer any of my questions. It's time to see it all for myself and stop leaving it for someday.

At first, there's nothing. Just a few random words that are underlined, but it seems like he's only done it for emphasis.

Then there are notes in the margins as he makes his own comments, which either pertain to the character or reflect something within himself.

There are lines that are scribbled out, but I'm not sure what they said or why he's done it.

There are happy faces, sad faces, and indifferent faces next to different lines, and I try to imagine him wearing those expressions while he read them.

There are pages that are completely unmarked.

There are pages that are marked so heavily that I can barely see where one thought ends and another begins.

And then there's one page where he's only written two words and underlined a single sentence. My eyes catch it as soon as I turn the page, but I force myself to read everything before it in order to be fair. I read quickly and then I've reached the sentence, my breath hitching as my eyes scan over the words.

I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

My heart drops in my chest as I read the line. I begin to picture twelve-year-old Styles again and the lack of hope that resided in his green eyes.

My gaze is then drawn to the words written in the corner, and my heart is now springing upward in my chest.

Until you.

"Until you," I whisper the words to myself as my thumb rubs over his handwriting, trying to make sure it's really there.

It doesn't smudge or disappear but remains on the page. It's permanent and unless I scribble it out or tear of the section, it's not going anywhere.

I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to...until you.

My chest begins to rise and fall as I hear my breath entering and exiting my nose.

I stare at the words until I can't stare at them anymore, which causes me close the book and shove it off my lap. Then I'm up, pulling on a random pair of shoes as I grab my jean jacket off the post of my bed. I then throw my bedroom door open and bolt down the stairs, holding onto the banister as I go so I don't fall all the way down.

When I've reached the bottom, I go quickly to the kitchen counter where I left my dad's keys before, but they're gone. A sticky note is placed there instead with my dad's handwriting covering its surface.

Went to grab a beer with a buddy from work. Didn't want to disturb you. Be back later.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I pound my fist gently against the counter.

Now what?

I stare at the kitchen floor, trying to sort through my options when a new one enters my head. Then I'm moving again, making my way to the garage where I find my bike waiting for me. I open the garage door and lead my bike out before closing the door behind me again.