Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 13

 Angry with my life, I roll out of bed, hitting the alarm. I stand up and haphazardly walk to my mirror, still in my sleepy state. I look at myself, debating on whether or not I needed a shower this morning. I close my eyes, and I see a flash of reminiscence play on the screen under my eyelids, and they snap open. My heart pounds in my chest, as I remember the date. I gulp, and tears of what I had just seen, what my brain had just re-exposed me to, come brimming at my lashes.

 August seventh.

 It’s been seven years. Seven years on my own, officially, today.

 My breath comes out shaky, and I have a fear to close my eyes. My book signing is today, too. Ashton said he’d pick me up at seven thirty. I don’t think I can get in the car with him.

 Trying to get everything off of my mind, I pick out an outfit. I decide on a semi-short dress – the black skirt of it comes just above my knees. I wear a classy white belt with it, pairing it with white sandals, prepared to freeze with the cool rain and wind combination we’ve had. I put a silver bracelet on my left wrist and my book nerd necklace around my neck. Carefully, I put on make-up, before I head into the living room.

 The clock says seven twenty when I hear a knock on the door. I walk over to have Ashton greet me, ten minutes earlier than he needed to. I let him in, and he follows me to the kitchen, so I can get something to eat. When you’re paying rent, you can’t just stop on the way.

 “You excited?” he asks me. I shrug, my mind on other things. “You’re not?”

 I shake my head, trying to focus on the moment. “I am, just-”

 “You alright?” he cuts me off.

 I sigh, thinking about it. Out of habit, I nod, and he gives me an accusing look.

 “Trin, you can tell me. I know something is bothering you,” he informs me.

 I look down, knowing I have been caught in a lie. “There’s just so much going on right now,” I say honestly.

 “Like what?” He leans against the wall, as I sit on the counter.

 “I don’t know, really,” I mumble. I can feel him staring, so I continue. “Diana is in a coma.”

 “What?” he questions, almost as if he does not believe.

 I feel a tear roll down my cheek, giving me all the more reason to look down. “Nobody knows what happened. Sierra went back to her house, and her beat-up body was waiting for her on the front porch. Unfortunately for us, Sierra’s mom was not home to know how it happened, but now she’s in a coma.” I feel my face is wet, and it is probably stained with mascara.

 There is a moment of pure quiet. “When did this happen?”

 “Early on Sunday morning.” I am waiting for him to explode on me for not saying anything, but he doesn’t.

 “How’s Sierra?”

 I want to look up at him, but I don’t out of embarrassment. “She isn’t taking it well,” I answer evasively. Silence falls again. Then a cry escapes me.

 I jump down from the counter and turn around, leaning on the counter with my face in my hands. I begin to sob, my body quaking. I feel a pair of arms wrap around me, and I figure goes stiff. Ashton turns me, so my face is in his chest, and I collapse, letting him take some of the weight I carry. His sweater is soft on my cheeks. He hushes me, rubbing my back. I hate myself for letting my emotion take over. “The worst thing is,” I hiccup, “I am almost positive who is to blame, but they can’t prove anything.”