Pierce and Scarlett are two unique fragments who cross pathways in a low-end motel. He is running away from his haunted past, while she is trying to build a future from broken pieces. As the pair collides in a series of trying events, they must figu...
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17 | The Broken
Scarlett's gaze focuses on her lap. Two fingernails gitterishly tapping the silence away. Her red hair flows down the side of her cheek, veiling her emotions from me once more.
It's hard to say if she might explode . . . a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
I lean across the console and grab her hand. The tapping noise stops, but Scarlett's hand continues to shake. Squeezing it tightly, I hope this settles the nerves. It doesn't work. Instead, she wraps her fingers around mine.
"Are you going to be okay?" I ask.
Scarlett's shoulders sag and with a sigh, she nods her head.
"I'll be fine because that's my only choice," she answers. "Don't worry about me, Pierce."
"It doesn't have to be," I say.
"But it does." She shakes her head. "I can't fall to pieces every time something bad happens."
"Don't you get tired of it?" I sigh. "Tired of pretending the world isn't screwing you over every minute of every day."
"You don't," she mutters. "It's complicated."
"Everything is with you." I pull back to rest in the car seat. I'm exhausted.
The car engine grumbles to a standstill as I turn the motor off. I pocket the keys and climb out of the rusting shell of a small car. Perhaps a Toyota something? It doesn't matter, I doubt the car would have a good resale value if they found the blood stains in the boot.
We tried to cover his head, but not well enough considering the spillage. The amount of bloodshed is surprising considering it was only a head wound.
I stand by the bonnet and look through the windshield at Scarlett. With no surprise, she's still seated on the passenger side, head bowed. I wonder what's playing on her mind.
What do I say? I've never been good at things like this. I hardly think saying, sorry for your loss, is what she wants to hear. I never liked hearing it when my brother passed. The words, gifts and the flowers weren't going to bring my brother back.
But this is different. Does Scarlett wish this never happened?
I walk around to the door and open it. Kneeling down to her level, I try to peek under her flowing hair.
"Do you need a minute?" I ask.
"Oh no." She sniffles. "I'll come with you."
Scarlett brushes her hair out the way, then moves to step out of the car. I quickly spring out of the way, then close the door behind her.
I follow Scarlett through the back door and into the kitchen. Her walking speed picks up, but before she can get away, I tug on Scarlett's hand and pull her back to me. She wraps herself with my arms and buries her face into my chest.
