pandemonium and shattered glass hearts.

Chapter 5.

5.

Luce's pov.

It's quiet. Far to quiet.

Ever since this afternoons weird sort of non-verbal fight, our room has been silent. Jess came out, picked up the pieces of tea-cup and threw them in the bin so hard they shattered a bit more. The look she gave me was sort of scary, a cross between poison and regret. Maybe even a look of pity, laced with something more.

It wouldn't be the first time someone's regretted reaching out to me. Oops.

She's been sitting on her laptop with her earphones plugged in for the past hour, typing like crazy. It's the only sound in the room, that constant tap tap tap tap. It's like a bomb that's close to detonation, tick tick tick. The more I think about how it sounds like a bomb, the more I freak out.

Instead of ruining things twice in one day I decide to play at her game and get out the book I keep hidden in my shelf. It's a wreck this journal, but all the pages have been ripped out and replaced with writing paper.

I'm not good enough to have a wreck this journal that actually looks decent, anyway.

But this way nobody will know that it's where I keep my deepest and innermost pain.

The pages are stiff and a stained, some with blood, others with tears tinged with makeup.

It hurts just to remember writing some of these entry's, because I remember writing every single one as if it was just yesterday. Which is insanely cliche, but they're stuck in my mind.

I guess in a way every event of the past few years is inked in my mind, slowly sinking deeper and deeper until I know I'll never be rid of them.

I can still hear the tapping of Jess's keyboard, and it still sounds as though i'm sitting on a bomb about to explode. In a way, I really wish I was.

I'm shaking now, my fingers are freezing. I get like this every time I try to write down how I feel, it sends me crazy. But the stinging on my wrist reminds me of this afternoon, and I know that I have to put it somewhere. Luckily it's easier to put my pen to paper than I thought, the words come so easy, so fast.

They actually come so fast I'm dizzy, they spin in front of my eyes.

But it feels so good to just write, and not even notice what I'm writing.

It distracts me from the tapping noise, and at least I don't have to imagine I'm sitting on a bomb any more. At least I can breathe again.

Jess's pov.

Guitar chords drown out any thoughts that try and creep in, the lyrics crush any words that lay on my tongue. Tonight is not a night for talking, it's not a night for us. Us being me and Luce, regardless if we can actually be referred to as us or not.

After this afternoon we seem to be further apart than ever, and it's all my fault. My hand is all cleaned up, covered with a bandage. Luce hasn't noticed, and even if she has, she doesn't care. Oh well.

After I threw the teacup remains out, I sat down with my laptop. I started to write, because at that point it seemed as though it'd be all I could be capable of.

I haven't stopped since, my fingers just keep clicking over the keys.

To be totally honest, I don't even know what I'm writing. It's just nice to be in my own little headspace for once, to have control.

By the time my fingers start cramping I've written over 1000 words in a short space of time. And it actually amazes me that I don't even know what I've actually written about.

So I start to read it, but I don't get any further than just the first 2 lines.

'once, there was a girl. She was beautiful, she had everything. Once, this girl found another. One that didn't have anything, and when they found each other, it was as though they'd completed a puzzle.'

It left me numb, it was just like me and Luce. I knew that i'd written it subconsciously, but it sort of scared me. It seemed like this piece of writing in front of me was our story, maybe one that wouldn't end well. And just maybe, all I had to do was read it to find out.

But I won't read it, instead I shut my laptop, get up and head for the shower. I can't help but notice that luce is crying, again. That book in her hands, and the teacup pieces strewn around her.

I don't take pity this time, despite the fact that I want more than anything to go hold her in my arms. I walk straight past, slamming the door to disguise the sob that escapes my lips.