hidden | ethma

forty seven

elizabeth answers the door, a frown on her lips. she's dressed in her pajamas, her dark hair up in a messy ponytail. "what?" she snaps at me. 

"can we talk?" i ask. 

"you can talk," she says shortly, turning and walking back into her room. i follow, shutting the door softly behind me. she takes a seat on her bed and picks up a nail file, running it across the tops of her nails. 

where do i start? there's so much tension between us at this moment,

i can practically feel it in the air. i take a breath. "elizabeth, what exactly did you feel for weston?" 

she looks up, furrowing her brow. "what did i feel for him?" 

i nod, remaining by the door.  "i loved him," she says simply. 

"how did you know it was love?" 

she stops filing her nails and looks at me. "i just knew." she purses her lips. "which is why it was that much more painful to learn what you did." 

i shut my eyes. "do you believe what weston told you?" i ask slowly, reopening my eyes. "about me?" 

"that's obvious, isn't it?" she goes back to filing her nails. 

i swallow. 

"weston never loved you." 

elizabeth freezes, slowly looking up at me. "what did you just say?" 

"i said, weston never loved you." 

she narrows her eyes. "what makes you think you have the fucking right to say that to me?" 

"i just talked to him. i met him at the coffee shop on the corner." 

"what the fuck were you doing talking to him at a coffee shop?" 

"i needed to clear up some things." the words coming out of my mouth are not from regular emma, not at all. 

"clear up? what, did you fuck him in the bathroom or something?" 

that's it. 

"you know what, elizabeth?" i ball my hands into fists. "i'm done trying. i'm done trying to mend our bad relationship here, when all you do is insult me. i'm tired of being accused of something i didn't do, alright? i didn't do it. i didn't sleep with weston, i didn't fuck him in a coffee shop bathroom, and i sure as hell know that he didn't love you for shit. and you know why? because he's a fucking scum bag, elizabeth, and you're too good for him. so go ahead, call me a whore again, hell, call me a whore twenty times because i'm leaving tomorrow and when i do, i'm not going to mope over the fact that you hate my guts." 

i cross my arms over my chest as elizabeth gapes at me, her nail file falling into her lap. it feels so good to finally say that, to finally have some kind of closure on what happened, even if it wasn't the best closure. 

"anything else you'd like to add?" i ask her. 

she swallows, looking down at her lap.