Fragments

10 | The Confession

10 | The Confession 

The empty ruffled sheets come to view the moment my eyes flicker open. Streams of sunlight sneak through the cracks of the mustered yellow curtains. I run my hand down my face and groan.

I dreamt of her. The broken light bulb flickering fragments of light over Scarlett's bruised and battered face. I felt sick to my stomach.

I lay on my back and look towards the ceiling for a moment. My mind is empty. I'm thankful for that.

Pushing the bed sheets away, I climb out and head towards the door. The floorboards creak under my feet as I return to my quarters to for a shirt to wear.

"Peirce, come downstairs," she calls out.

"Is there something wrong?" I shout.

"Are you hungry?" My stomach growls in response. "I've made breakfast."

My feet find the stairs before I realise it. I walk into the closed off dinner to see a small table closest to the kitchen set with food and cups of water. There are two plates with toast, beans, and a sunny side egg each.

I take a seat in the chair across from the cushioned seat booth and wait for Scarlett to be seated.

She throws a small pan into the metal sink before charging towards me. Her red hair flies over her shoulder which looks like a blazing fire. Scarlett puts the carton of eggs into the fridge then washes her hands before exiting the kitchen.

The booth chair groans as she shuffles into a comfortable position. I take this as my chance to start eating my food before it gets any colder.

"Thank you for making breakfast." I smile.

"You're welcome, Peir," she mumbles in return.

"How did you sleep last night?" 

Her eyes stay focused on the silver cutlery resting on the table. "I would have slept better if you didn't mumble the whole night."

Her tone is light, almost teasing. This doesn't stop the blood from pooling to my cheeks. That's embarrassing.

"Sorry about that," I mutter.

"You didn't wake up screaming for a change," she says. "What is that about?"

An invisible force clogs my throat. I can't bring myself to speaking those words.

"Nothing." I casually shrug.

"You know some of my past, shouldn't I get to know yours?" Scarlett questions.

She brushes a strand of red hair behind her ear and smiles at me.

"A car accident. That's what I dream about."

"Oh shoot." She looks away.

It's easy to look away because pain is conflicting. It triggers the darkest memories we try to submerge. At some point, we all look away. We're all afraid of emotions. We turn them off and look away.

But we can't always look away, even if we want to. It stays with us forever. And forever is a very long time.

"My younger brother, Max, died," I add.

I can't admit she might be the reason I only saw her and that damn fucking flickering lightbulb. Darkness would be better.

I grab the fork and spoon some beans onto the toast. Taking a bit into the cold crunchy toast, my stomach grumbles for more. I'd missed dinner last night because I couldn't find the desire to eat.

"I'm sorry for your loss Peirce. How old was your brother?" Scarlett asks.

"He just turned twelve that week."

"That's . . ." Her gaze drops to the table. "It's hard losing someone you love." Hard doesn't come close, but I nod my head in agreement. It is excruciatingly hard.

"I won't lie. It broke me. I've wondered about that ever since. Am I a fragment because my life shattered or have I always been a fragment?" I question.

"Hm, that's a serious thought, Peirce." Scarlett nibbles on her bottom lip. I watch as she takes a dainty sip from her water glass.

"It is indeed. I have other theories too."

She'll think they're stupid, but I'm a sucker for her thoughts.

"Ah, a theory! I'm curious." A small smile quirks onto her red lips.

"What if we are all fragments until we find the right person? Maybe they are the missing half, the key to everything?" I question.

Scarlett shakes her head. My stomach drops with dismay. Maybe we really are lonely fragments? I'd like to believe there's more than being alone and upset for our whole lives. I can't be that perfect robot my mother is. I feel too much to pretend I'm okay when I'm really not.

"You shouldn't rely on someone like that. They'll disappoint you in the end." Her voice is bitter for her past experiences.

"It isn't weak to admit you need help Scar. You can't do everything by yourself."

"But I can try," Scarlett insists. "I've never had much faith in people."

"That's because you haven't met me," I smirk. "I'll change the way you see the world."

"What if you stop running and decide this place or this life isn't for you?" she yells. "What happens then?"

Anger boils within the pit of my stomach. I take a deep breath and place my utensils on the table. Don't get angry. This won't resolve the situation if I yell at her.

"I know you don't know me, but I'll say this. I won't do that to you Scarlett."

"Maybe you should leave Peirce. You're wasting away like the lot of us here," Scarlett points out.

"I'm not wasting away here." I shake my head. "I'm beginning to like it here."

"I bet you have a future. A good one. You should chase it," she says.

"I don't have a future."

"Correction." Scarlett frowns. "You don't want a future."

I stab my fork into the egg and cut a piece off. The crushed salt and egg are gritty which makes me long for scrambled eggs with a side of tomato relish. Maybe Scarlett is right? What if I don't belong here?

Truth. What if I do and this is an act to get rid of me?

Scarlett tries to push me away, but I grow curious about the depth of her scars. How many does she have? How deep do they run? I couldn't fix them all with band-aids and kisses, but stitches and time could be a start.

That's the thing about darkness; it sucks you in.

Have you ever confessed something deep, dark and personal? Do you think you're a fragment as well?