Two Years Ago...
My surroundings spin like a carousel of horses. Everything around me screams in the forms of flashing lights and car horns as I drive at a dangerous speed, my hands trembling on the steering wheel. I already regret leaving the way I did; stealing Noah's keys and abducting his car right from his driveway. The look he had on his face when I drove away, how his eyes watered with tears as he pounded on the glass while screaming my name, it's a memory I wish that I could forget.
I could feel what he felt. The hopelessness written on his face and the pain that drenched his cry as he begged for me to come back sprung from him like a spider on a strand of grass, and every second of it caused little pieces of my heart to break. And I ran away from him, even feared him. I feared that he would begin to look at me like the way Olivia did. He saw that very fear latched onto me and he was powerless to stop it from spreading.
He'll probably never want to speak to me again after this.
My phone has been ringing once every few minutes on the seat beside me, and everytime it does, I nearly jump out of my skin. I don't even have to look at the screen to know who it is, and I have to force myself not to answer his call.
The tears race down my face as I pull onto a familiar street, my breath scampering from my mouth as I attempt to calm myself down. I'm now minutes away from what will solve every problem that I have, and the guilt is already becoming unbearable. It blooms like a poisonous flower in my gut and no actions have even been taken yet. It's the guilt that comes before the very action that plants it's seed.
Once Sam's house comes into view, I pull back any and all tears that threaten to fall, adjusting my hair and settle makeup in the mirror and smoothing down any pieces of blonde that seem out of place, or could trigger questioning. My makeup is a different story. Messy, black mascara stains the layer of skin beneath my bottom lashes and streaks of black run down my face. I use my fingertips to roughly smudge them away until no more black can be removed and I get out of the car.
Sam opens the door almost immediately after I knock, and her eyes take the moment to scan my figure.
"Rowen, are you okay?" she asks. Clearly, my efforts of hiding my sad complexion have failed.
Ordering myself to pay no attention to her question, I change the topic of conversation and get straight to the point. "Do you have what we talked about?" I ask, my voice unsteady with every spoken letter.
She wavers, and her eyebrows scrunch downwards in confusion. Her face remains this way until awareness creeps in. She gives me a stern look of sadness and pity before she turns and vanishes into the house.
After a few minutes of waiting, Sam returns, holding the thing that I came for, though she doesn't hand it over, even as I hold out my hand to take them.
"You didn't get these from me. We never spoke. Got it?"
"Yeah, got it." She extends out her arm to hand them over and I quickly snatch them from her grip. I study its contents carefully to make sure it is the one I asked for before stuffing it into the pocket of my oversized hoodie.
I look up to see a worried demeanor abiding in her eyes as she surveys me carefully. Without attracting any more questioning looks, I cautiously hide my torso with my arms and the loose, grey fabric of my clothing. Luckily, she disregards my movements, though my breath still holds.
"Are you absolutely sure that you know what your doing? This isn't something that you play around with. If my mom sees that it's missing, I'm screwed," Sam states sternly.
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We Are Stars | OLD DRAFT
Teen Fiction#30 in Stars #780 in Teen Fiction Ever since the tragic death of her mother, Rowen has only seen the world through the eyes of loss, and never has she felt more alone. With her father's obsessive drinking, secrets to keep, and her dreams of becoming...
