ELEVEN
May 20th, 2015
I see someone rush into my room out of the corner of my eye, looking absolutely horrific. Nothing like the boy I left behind.
"Luca?"
My gaze falls directly on the paper scrunched up in his fist.
Damn it, I knew I should've hidden the note better. But of course, the note was for him, so that would defeat its purpose.
He says nothing, just takes in my appearance as I observe the rapid rises and falls of his chest with every breath he takes.
The tightening of his fist around the betraying note is the first sign of the storm stirring behind those gray eyes. His creasing eyebrows, the second.
I say nothing, words having evaded my lips long ago. I'm sat frozen, doing nothing to brace myself.
His unkempt hair and sunken eyes aren't different from Pa's. I did this to them, and heaven knows who else. It really is easier to think straight after all the damage has been done.
His guarded eyes reveal nothing, though their red tint makes me wonder if my departure may have cost more than I would've anticipated.
My nails dig into my palms and I chide myself for my carelessness. I know now, how rash I've been. These are the consequences I must face for my actions, whether they were intentional or not.
"What were you thinking?"
His question is a slap to my face, though I do my best not to show it.
He slams the note onto the tiny table next to Olivia's Chair. "Do you have any idea about what you've done? We were worried sick, you know that? You can't just scare the shit out of us, running around leaving these notes just because you can, damn you. We thought you were dead, what the hell were you thinking?
"What's wrong with you? Huh? We thought you were dead. Goddammit, why aren't you saying anything? Say something. Say something, please."
A traitorous tear traces its way down my cheek and I'm just sitting there, taking the words he's throwing at me.
"You always do this, you j—"
"Okay, I think that's enough for today, don't you think?" the Boy interrupts, reminding us of his presence. And existence.
"Who are you, now?" Luca says warily.
"No one," I say quickly, my voice still raspy. "A proud occupant of Olivia's Chair."
"Are you serious? Are you freaking serious, right now? Of course you'd try to be funny right now. Unbelievable."
"Quit it," the Boy says. "Give her some space for now."
"And you're doing a great job of giving her just that, aren't you?" Luca sneers.
"Luca, I—"
"Harlin, if you're going to joke around now, I don't want to hear it," he snaps.
"I wasn't going to," I say, gritting my teeth. "Will you let me finish for once? I wasn't thinking straight, I—"
"When have you ever?" he cuts in.
"Let her finish," the Boy says.
"Are you going to go give me an explanation or not? Because I don't—"
"Shut up, Luke," I say. I wish he'd just leave. This whole conversation's bouncing around in my head giving me a terrible migraine.
"You're telling me to shut up? Harlin, you're the one who tried to kill herself!"
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