Second chances [Complete, 18+]

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VI

She covered her ears as the phone continued to ring. Knees tucked into her chest, she rocked herself as she sat by the window. She hadn't left the apartment in days, she couldn't bring herself to. His smell still lingered in the air and the tear stained shirt she had kept clenched in her hands. How stupid could she have been to let him in like that?

As the ringing finally stopped she lifted her head, only to glimpse the scattered ripped sheets that had once belonged to her sketch pad. She'd been compelled to draw, relief lifting her with every stroke of her pencil. It was only when she finished a piece that her heart broke that little bit more, and she swore that she would never draw him again before ripping out the offending piece. She couldn't bear to throw them away though, so they just stared up at her. The first time she had drawn his full face, she had collapsed into chest racking sobs so instead when the urge came she instead drew little bits instead that didn't hurt so much: an eye, a scar across one of his biceps, his jawline, his lips...

She bit her lips to stop thinking about him. It was torture that she couldn't escape. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning as she replayed his touches in her mind, often waking up panting and needy. Tears rapidly flowed every time as she found that he was no longer there. It only made her hate herself more as she realised just how much she missed him. When she was awake, his scent seemed to swirl around her and every inch of her apartment had some memory of their encounter. Despite this, she couldn't leave, she'd tried, even got her hand on the door handle but never quite managed to turn it. Couldn't leave him behind. She knew it was stupid and silly, he had already left days ago and he'd made no move to come back. He'd left but in actual fact she was the one who shoved him out the door. In what world did she expect a man, never mind a man that perfect, to chase after her when he'd been so rudely rejected. She wasn't anything special no matter what he had said.

Once again she peered hopelessly at the torn paper beside her. As soon as she had torn up his letter she had regretted it and had desperately tried to piece it back together. Her shaky hands had been able to repair most of it, sealing the fragile pieces together with Sellotape but one of the rips had torn straight through his number. She traced over the letters that had burned into her skull with the sheer number of times she had read them. She hated how she had reacted and couldn't count how many times she wished she had just listened. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. How had he recovered so quickly from his injuries? Was he faking and if so how could she trust anything he said when he could be lie so effectively. More importantly perhaps, why on earth did she miss him already?

She groaned, rubbing circles into her temples in an attempt to rid herself of her growing headache. A sudden banging made her crick her neck as her head whipped around to the door. Her heart sped as she scrambled up, pausing at the small mirror to the left of the door. She gasped at her reflection and attempted to settle her hair but grimaced as it only revealed how greasy it was. Taking a deep breath, hand on the doorknob she hesitated and peered through the viewer only to be disappointed when it wasn't him.

"Come on sis, let me in. I'm worried, you haven't been answering my calls." Isabelle called out through the door.

She dropped her head onto the door and bit her lip to prevent the sob that was making its way back up for another encore. Her older sister would never leave, she was just way too stubborn but she had to try. She lived two hours away and was happily settled with a white picket face, an amazing husband and three kids to boot. She'd completely written off that future for herself but in her dreams he took pride of place.

"Hey, I'm fine. Sorry to worry you. Phone must be dead. Really nothing wrong here, sorry you came so far but I really can't talk at the moment. I promise I'll give you a call..." It was the most she'd said in days and even to herself she sounded raspy.