The Adventures of My Creative Writing Class

Closure

So after I finished the Delirium series...I felt unsatisfied. So you know what I did? I wrote a fic about what happens after for my creative writing class because that's what fangirls do.
Enjoy!
*SPOILERS*

“Julian!” Tack yells and stomps toward me, gun in one hand.
    Ever since Raven died, Tack has been different, like, he was never the nicest but now he acts an angry child, throwing tantrums every time he doesn’t get his way. And when he’s not barking orders, he’s flat on his face, drunk as a sailor. I mean, this must not be easy for him, but, man, I miss the old Tack.We were finally starting to get along, he stopped treating me like a child.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Who snuck out the door? Pippa said she heard the door close. You know the rules: no one is allowed out past midnight. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe. And you, my friend, are the only who could’ve seen something.” He’s right about one thing: I’ve been the only one in the living room for hours. 
“I think you know who.” I say sourly. I can’t help it. It’s been a week since we took down the walls, a week since Lena broke up with me. 
I should’ve known. I should’ve known she didn’t love me- at least not the way I wanted to be loved.
    After all this time, she was lying to me, and lying to herself- that’s what she said. After all we’ve been through, she chose Alex, the guy who broke her heart (and my nose), the guy who made her cry, the guy who told her he never loved her. 
Maybe I’m just feeling sorry for myself.
“Were they carrying anything- what were they carrying? Where were they going and why?” Tack asks. Anger boils inside me.
“Heck if I know!” I burst. “They probably took a blanket and are prancing around somewhere not here, making out or whatever.” The words stumble out of my mouth, leaving a disgusting taste on my tongue and my mind cursing me and wishing I hadn’t spoken them into existence.
    Heartbreak hurts.
    Hurts more than a tumor- and I’m allowed to say that, been there, delt with that.
“Wait ‘till I get my hands on them.” Tack mumbles and marches out the door, slamming it shut.
“Good luck finding them.” I say into the air. I could really go for some whiskey right about now. Or a hug.

Xoxo KKHughz