Walking Straight

Chapter 9

MAKE SURE TO LOOK IN THE MEDIA FOR PICTURES OF THE CHARACTERS!!!!!!

Hey guys! ONE HUNDRED AND THRITY ONE READS!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!! I am so excited to write this chapter! If any of you have been listening to the songs for the chapters while reading, you will really see where I get my inspiration! If you can, please please please listen to the songs as you read, what I did is make a playlist for writing and add to it as I go along. Try  it, it seriously helps to capture the mood and tone of the story. Love you all! xx,Carla

Songs for this chapter-

Fake You Out- Twenty One Pilots

Semi-Automatic- Twenty One Pilots

Forest- Twenty One Pilots

Johnny Boy- Twenty One PIlots

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"I'll never be, be what you see inside,

You say I'm not alone, but I am petrified,

You say that you are close, 

is close  the closest star?

You just feel twice as far, you just feel twice as far."

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"Our brains are sick but that's okay."

TAYLOR'S POV:

Rhett and I are back in Steamboat Springs after breakfast at the hotel. We sit in his room on the floor, our legs arranged criss-cross-applesauce. He is telling me about his pictures, and what every single one of them means. I look up to the sloping ceiling and point to a photo of a birdcage with a broken smoking pipe in it. The cage is wrapped in barbed wire, making the image look distorted and twisted, rather than delicate and peaceful.

"What's that one mean?" I wonder aloud. Rhett's smile drops and he looks down from the ceiling and at the floor. I wish I could take back what I just said. I have opened a door in Rhett's mind that was supposed to stay under lock and key. I shake my head,  my eyes lowering.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have opened my mouth, forget it." I utter. Rhett looks me dead in the eye with a light in his stare suggesting fear and loss.

"It's.... it's for a friend." he assures, giving me a half-smile. I swallow, still regretting my question.

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RHETT'S POV:

Taylor is actually here in my room, listening intently on my explanations for every dark photo plastered to all four of my walls.

They way she grasps onto every word..... If I start making a point, she takes a strand of her hair that has repeatedly fallen into her face and tucks it behind her ear, showing her interest. She is so perfect, and she doesn't realize it. 

It's been quiet for a few seconds, then Taylor stretches her index finger toward my ceiling.

"What's that one mean?"  she is pointing to the picture I took when Jade left for San Francisco. I don't want to give her my demons, so I drop my eyes, trying to come up with a response that was doable. She looks apologetic.