Dead End

CHAPTER 32

4th of January 

Thea was at Finn's door. It stood like a wall, the redness of it almost bleached Thea with the same colour. She felt red, a sad red, not one filled with burning vengeance. It had been three days of not talking to Violet. Violet. She had left Thea's mind, but at the same time, had consumed it. Thinking about Violet made her seem more hopeless than usual, and the fact that Violet hadn't even attempted to contact Thea. That was enough of a reason to find Finn. She didn't know why she needed a reason, if Finn was her friend then he should be there for her, but as the red door cascaded over Thea like an unwanted swarm of bees, the feeling of Finn hugging her itched at her, almost stung, but still left no scars. There was no space for scars with Thea. She had been cut, deeper and deeper by every person she met, and in the end, she had bled out everything she had. All over everyone too, she had left her dignity at their feet. Placed it there, on a pedestal, but equally carelessly. Finn now had to pick up the pieces, and as embarrassing as that was, she knew he would do it without question. He was a good guy, he was the only guy. The only person. Thea had no-one else, and although that thought used to make her anxious, she had moulded into it like clay. And she was comfortable by it, too comfortable. It masked her, and she liked that mask, far too much than she should've.

Her hand hovered over the doorbell for what felt like ages. She couldn't bring herself to actually ring it. To actually ring it! What was she even doing here? She was being foolish, and it wasn't like she only just caught onto that, she knew she was being foolish when she stole her sisters car to get here. But she was drawn to the idea of Finn hugging her. Finn hugging her. She could feel the tweed jacket rub against her skin, in a way, that once again, was oddly comforting. What she came to realise, was far more comforting than the clay, or the bedsheets in her room. People need people, and that came to play a far bigger role in her actions than she thought. She hit the doorbell, and waited. Anxious hands, shaking shaking and shaking. She hadn't felt this way since she had to accept an award in high-school. But this didn't feel like an award, seeing Finn was something she didn't deserve, so that was the only award related thing riddled into this mess. Finn still hadn't opened the door. The red was still there, and now burning with anxiety. It seeped into Thea's skin like paint on a canvas. But Thea wasn't a nice white clean cut canvas, she had been scraped and bought with intentions from a child, and because of this, the paint slid off and the rarity that it worked, only had the cuts of the paintbrush lined in it.

Thea's hands were tied in an almost knot. They winded together in fear, she wanted to remember that she was still here; and twirling her hands together seemed like the best option. Out of the overwhelming zero options that she actually had. This dawned on her, and Thea started to cry. Small tears, but tears never the less, and tears, that at each fall left her as pathetic as before. She never cries, or she'd like to think that she never does. Thea started to think about her mom, and even when Sofia treated her mom like shit, she never cried. Thea wanted to have the strength of her mom. She didn't even want all of it, just an ounce, to get her out of this pathetic runt she had been in the last couple days.

The door finally opened. The red was gone, and replaced with a gleaming Finn. He wasn't smiling, it was his presence that was gleaming in Thea's eyes. It was enough for her to barrel into him and wrap her arms around his soft fuzzy pyjamas. She sunk into them the same way she sunk into his tweed jacket. Thea could hear that she was muttering, god knows what, but everytime she came out trying to say something he would hush her, then Thea would fall back. They stood like that for a while, and even after Thea had stopped crying (well, Thea didn't really think of it as stopping, more it had reached small sniffles). She had missed Finn. She hoped he missed her, but when he starting speaking Thea could tell. It was the scratchiness of his voice, and the way that he looked at her with more admiration than usual.