The War on Love

Chapter 7

Please note! Self-harm is mentioned! If this acts like a trigger for you do NOT read!!!

*Thomas's POV*

A month has passed. Lines of scars now decorated my wrists. I know, I went down a bad road. I couldn't help it. It made the pain of loss lessen a bit. I've ignored phone calls, text messages, everything. I've barely eaten and drank very little. My time was spent laying on the couch in silence or sitting on the bathroom floor with a blade to my wrist.

My silence is broken by the sound of my phone going off. But it's the ringtone I had set for Emmalyn. I curiously pick up the phone. Her picture and her name was there on the screen. I answer it cautiously. "Hello?"

"Is this Thomas?" A woman asks.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Cecilia Taylor. Emmalyn's sister."

"Okay? How may I help you?" I hope the quaver of my voice isn't as evident as I think.

"She's not dead, Thomas."

I'm on my feet. My coat is being slipped on my body. "Where is she?"

"In the hospital here in Louisiana but Thomas-"

"I'll be there soon. Goodbye. Thank you!" I hang up and go to buy my plane ticket.

In half an hour I'm at the airport with a plane ticket and a boarding pass. I'm first on the plane and first off. I hail a cab to take me to the hospital where Emmalyn is residing.

I run to the receptionist desk. "I need to see Emmalyn Taylor."

The lady looks up at me then looks at her clipboard. "Visits to Miss Taylor are prohibited unless you're immediate family. Are you immediate family?"

"Well... No, but-"

"I'm sorry, sir. Family only."

"Ma'am, please!"

"No. Please have a seat. I assure you, we will alert you if anything happens."

"Please! I have to see her! Please, ma'am," I plead. I hope she sees the need in my eyes.

"Have a seat, sir."

I groan and slump down in a seat. I fiddle with the silver tag that I now always wore around my neck. Probably wasn't my best choice if I was trying to forget, but that's the thing, I didn't WANT to forget. I wanted to keep clinging on to the nine months we had had together.

I bolt up when I see her walking towards me. I quickly run a hand through my hair, trying to fix it, and tug down my sleeves to hide the horizontal scars. But when she gets closer, it's not her. She looks just like her with long red hair, big green eyes, tall and lanky. But this girl's hair was straight. Her eyes were covered in pounds of makeup and there was no sparkle, not even the slightest gleam. She was skinny. But that's all it was. Skin and bone. Not the arms that had enough muscle to make her strong but not too much to where it wasn't feminine. I sank back in my chair.

She sits in the chair next to me. "Are you Thomas Sangster?" She asks.

I nod absently. Just another fan. Just another girl trying to get my attention.

"Cecilia Taylor. I talked with you on the phone." That's when I remember. Cecilia Taylor. Otherwise known as CeCe. The dreaded twin sister of Emmalyn Taylor. I remember her speaking of her in such a repugnant manner I had believed her to be joking. Now, when I actually see her, with the thousands of pounds of beauty product, and am around her and the acrid smell of too much perfume, I realize Emmalyn was dead serious....