Didn't sign up for this

CARSWELL

"Did you got in a fight again?" 

I was hoping my mom was out working, but she was home early. 

"It's nothing." I mumbled, but she grabbed a stool from under the dining table and pushed me on there. 

"Mom, it's already taken care of. You don't have to--" But she was already cleaning up my eyebrow with some jodium. It stinged more than it did when she fixed me up. 

"Honey, I told you. Count to ten." 

"I've counted to ten and beyond, mom." I hissed when she pushed the jodium soaked paper against my cheekbone. 

"Then walk away." 

It's not that easy.  I wanted to say. It's not that easy, when you feel the anger running through your veins. When your vision blurs out, turning red. 

"I'll try next time." I said instead. I don't want my mom to be dissapointed in me again. 

"Are you done? I have to do some things." I already got up. 

"Just be sure to be..-" 

"Be home before dinner. I will." I grabbed my jacket and walked outside the house. I got in my car, a black SUV my dad bought for my 16th birthday almost two years ago. He's not much an emotion-kinda guy. He usually just buys you something incredibly expensive and expects you to love him. 

I pick my sigarettebox out of my pocket and light one up. 

I place it between my lips and take a deep breath. 

 I've tried to stop smoking a few times, but I just couldn't. No one was expecting me to stop anyways, so why would I?

I start the car and drive to the nearest bookstore- Bargain Books.

I park my car at the spot I always parked, got out my car, took one last puff and threw the sigarette on the ground. 

The bell above the door rang when I opened it, and Jack, the owner of the bookstore, looked up. 

"If  it isn't Carswell." He says smiling. 

Jack's pretty old. Probably like, 71 or maybe even 75, but I never dared to ask him. He bought this bookstore a long time ago, and it used to be really busy in here. I wasn't alive that time, sadly, but I loved hearing his stories about all the people who came in here. The friends he made. 

But lately, the last 10 years, bookstores weren't that popular anymore. Jack still has regular costumers, but not nearly as much as a decade ago. 

"Hey there Jack." I grin at him. "How's it going?" 

"Good, good.." He says, and he walks towards me. "I've got something for you." 

"Oh?" I ask surprised. 

He takes the book from behind his back and shows me. "Romeo and Juliete! The one you asked me for." 

I asked him once, maybe a couple of years ago, if he ever saw one of the first pressed Romeo and Juliette books. I didn't expect him to actually search for it. 

"Jack! I--" 

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, son. I knew you wanted it, and I happend to have found it." 

I was almost a 100% sure he didn't 'happend to have found it'. A copy like this wasn't easy to find, and it must have cost him a fortune. 

"How much do I owe you?" I ask, pulling my wallet out of my jacket. 

"Nothing, son. You're doing enough already." 

"No. I don't take that for an answer. How much? Fifty? Hundred?" 

He pushed my wallet away. "You can pay me back by placing the new-in books on the shelves." 

I did it right away. When Jack had to get something from the attic, I took out my wallet again and left two 50 dollar bills on the counter. 

Then I looked at the clock. It was 7 pm already. One and a half hours passed dinner-time. 

"I have to go, Jack!" I yelled with my hands cupping my mouth. "I'll see you later!"  

"Take care!" He answered. 

--

Act 5, scene 3, page 5. 

'Thus with a kiss I die'

I smile, thinking back. 

Was it obvious that I was quoting Romeo and Juliete, or does she know the play like I do?

She quoted me back with Romeo and Juliete, so she must know more about the play than anyone else. 

I open my laptop. Next, I open Facebook. 

 I point my mouse at the search bar. My fingers were above the keyboard but I didn't know what to type in. I didn't know her name. 

I then searched 'Sarah Hunt'. The first profile was her. I clicked on it. Thankfully she had an open profile, so I could search through her friends. 

I scrolled through, looking at all the profile pic's. Finally, I see her. Her profile picture was her and an older women, I'm assuming it's her mother. 

Ava Timers

"Ava..." I whisper to myself. "Ava..." I say again, a bit louder. "It doesn't fit you." 

I look further, but her Facebook account is private. I sent her a friend request and a message.

Carswell: Ava doesn't suit you

I wait a minute. Ten minutes. Half an hour. 

By the time the digital clock on my laptopscreen hits 11:30 PM, I close my laptop.