Shattered

Carter (e)

Carter
19.
I tossed and turned for hours on end, which was nothing new. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd actually had a decent night of sleep.

Instead of the usual nightmares, though, all I could picture was Chase. His uncanny personality and even worse looks, he reminded me distinctly of the character Shaggy from 'Scooby Doo'. With unruly hair and a scruffy beard to match—and his eyes that wandered without really looking—unsettling.

Immediately, I thought of Hazel. With the fingerprints on her arm, and the break-in that had her voice wavering with shock and fright in just a matter of seconds—there was no denying that it had been Chase. The way that he had treated her as if she was a piece of meat. Even in the short time in the coffee shop, there was just something so unnerving about Chase that it made me angry. All I could think about was the fact that this guy lived in the same vicinity as Hazel, and no doubt in my mind that he would try to hurt her again.

I didn't know what Chase was capable of, but surely he would have the decency not to put a girl in harm's way.

Then again, how was I much different?

The familiar bout of anger filled me, but this time, it felt different.

I sat up, feeling the heat as it sifted through my stomach. A hand on my chest. It wasn't toward Chase, but Hazel. For working with Chase, for the bruised fingerprints on her arm. I was angry because of her, for making me feel and think about things without even realizing.

As if I cared.

I didn't care about anything but saving my own skin because I knew damn well what would happen if I didn't.

Pushing myself from the bed, I nearly stumbled over my own two feet as a wave of dizziness came over me.

Hazel was nothing like them, and I knew that, but the part of me that wanted to deny it, was the same side that remained indifferent. There was no way that I would ever bring myself to trust Hazel—not after eight years of false hope that my brother might end up coming home. It was wishful thinking.

And then he does. But it's different, and I felt worse somehow rather than better.

I rested my palms against the cool of the window sill, staring out at the dark and empty street, the bright light of the moon reminding me that there was no light at the end of the tunnel. My mind playing tricks thinking that I could have even a glimmer of hope.

Shrinking back from the window, I fell back into bed with a frustrated sigh.

• • •

The next morning, I hurried to get ready for the day. In the back of my mind, a shadow lingered behind me—taunting and jeering at me for a restless fit of sleep. With each sharp intake of breath, I could feel the embarrassment flooding through me with each turn to find no one there.

I couldn't bring myself to pour a cup of coffee, so I trudged to my car, praying that the coffee shop would be a better bet. With Chase no longer working, I was sure I'd be saved from getting myself into anymore trouble.

The bitter morning air stung my cheeks as I stepped out from my car. I hadn't noticed before, but snow blanketed the sidewalks and the sky a dreary, lifeless gray to match.

With a shiver, I made my way inside the shop, wincing slightly when the bell above my head announced my entry.

There was only one other person inside, seated behind a computer with headphones and seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. But, he glanced up to look at me when I stepped past his table, only to look away just as quickly. And then back again.