Irradiated

Chapter 19: Torn

It was clear that something wasn't right about her. Obviously, if she was crying, she had to be upset. The only question was, why? It wasn't likely for her to tell why, but it was bothering me as I anxiously waited for her to speak. She wouldn't look at me as another tear slid down her cheek, and it made me feel worse about the situation.

"It doesn't matter." She whispered softly, standing up and stepping over to the large wooden drawer next to the bed.

"Of course it matters." I tried following her, but she turned around to face me, her eyes narrowed into two blue slits.

"It doesn't. Just drop it." She muttered, not giving me a chance to respond as she opened the first drawer and started looking through the clothes. I watched her mechanical movements carefully, seeing her hands shake slightly as she picked up different articles of clothing.

"I still want to know. I don't like seeing you upset. It makes me feel... weird." I gently persuaded, turning to walk away and towards a different drawer. This one was a sleek black with metallic silver handles. Unlike the other, which was tan and had brown handles.

"It's not always about you." She retorted, starting to get me annoyed.

"I'm not saying it's about me. I'm trying to help you!" I glared at her over my shoulder, hating the way she was acting.

"I don't need your help!" She screamed, thudding her fist against the drawer. I continued to glare at her for a few seconds before answering.

"You said you needed my help in Sweden, but then so be it." I growled harshly, grabbing the first things I saw in the drawer and stormed out of the room. It didn't go as smoothly as I wanted it to, but this was something much more fragile than I thought. What would have made Angeli so angry? Or... sad?

I went into the bathroom, locking it behind me and leaning against the white-painted door. The silent sound of my breathing filled my ears and left my mind to go blank. Now, I felt like a jerk. I knew that by saying what I did, it meant that I wouldn't be helping her anymore. The thing was, I didn't want to stop. It wasn't about Trevor, her sister, or even the deal we made. It was bigger than that.

I exhaled quietly, turning my attention to the wrinkled clothes in my hands. A navy hooded sweatshirt, dark blue jeans, and a black, heavy winter coat. This wasn't what I would usually wear, but I decided not to be picky, especially because our resources were limited. I put the jacket aside, planning to wear it when I was outside. Why was a jacket in a drawer? I had no idea.

Before leaving the bathroom, I glanced at the mirror that stretched across the sink. I stared back at myself, a strange look in my golden-ember eyes and the stubble on my face began to make me look older. What was I going to do now? Would I still go to France? I couldn't find a good reason to keep trying anymore. No matter how close we were going to get to finding the answers, it couldn't change the fact that everything around me was slowly getting trampled. The hope I once had was disintegrating into a hopelessness that was eating away at me.

I blinked once and realized exactly what I had to do. My mind was set on a single goal and that goal would remain until it was achieved. Through this whole journey, it had never occurred to me that this was what I was looking for. This hopelessness had a cause and the effect needed to be fixed.

Turning off the light behind me and sprinting down the hallway, I thundered down the steps with my hiking boots leaving wet marks on the wood.

"You hungry?" Naomi asked as I rushed through the black-tiled kitchen. Gray marble counters and a large white oven caught my attention, but I didn't stop until I reached the living room. I was smacked in the face by a warm feeling and noticed the first thing that could have been noticed.