"Looks like you're his next victim."
"Jesus Nova, didn't your mum ever warn you about creatures like me?! I'm not good for you and I'll end up ruining you or killing you!"
He wasn't human. There was nothing human about him. His blood was cold and hi...
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Harry
As soon as the offer left my mouth, I couldn't help but regret it immediately. The mere thought of Nova finding out that the book was in fact hers makes me nauseous.
One of the first interactions I had with her was three years ago, when she showed me the book in the dining hall. We never spoke and she definitely doesn't remember me now, but the idea of her remembering that she left her copy of The Great Gatsby out in the courtyard after the group painting activity makes me feel physically sick.
I remember it so vividly, almost like it was yesterday. Her easel was across from mine in the large circle of patients. I was able to see her face perfectly through the little opening between each canvas, which made it easier to sketch her and then paint her while she worked on her own. Her golden hair was in a low ponytail with a few strands framing her face, while the sunlight lined her face perfectly, making her the brightest in the circle. It was like the sun only shone on her, as if she was an angel standing on Earth.
Her eyes were the hardest to paint, they were so intricate and I wanted to make sure I was able to accurately define the exact color of her green irises, not wanting to mess up the beauty that she truly is. She was in her own little world, catching me staring at her from across the yard every so often, which made me hurry and focus back onto my painting, not wanting to seem like such a creep. It wasn't until she was focused back on her own canvas that I began to sneak glances of her again.
When the painting activity was over, we all cleaned our tools and left our canvases on the easels so they could finish drying. I remember I was the last to leave, not wanting others - especially her - to catch a view of my painting, considering she was the main subject. She was one of the last to leave as well, helping other patients clean up if they needed any kind of assistance, which was something I would never find myself doing, but she was too angelic.
When she finally did leave, she also left behind her book, resting up against her easel with her canvas' back facing me. Feeling a need to return it to her and see what she painted, I rushed over to the easel and picked up the book. At that point she was already out of the courtyard and most likely heading to her room before dinner, so there was no way I could catch up in time to give it to her. I also was too nervous to talk to her, not knowing what I would end up saying to her if I did in fact catch up with her. I rubbed my thumb over the cover, noticing it was the same book she inadvertently showed me the one time we sat near each other in the dining hall.
Out of curiosity I looked up at her painting as well, noticing she attempted to paint a downtown city scene, with shops illuminated by street lamps and what looks like people walking down the sidewalk. I laughed a little to myself, noticing she wasn't the best at drawing or painting, but she at least tried and it looked somewhat decent.
After that day I tried searching for her so I could return her book, but I never saw her again. The next day I even woke up earlier than normal to head to the dining hall to see if I could meet her there, knowing she usually would read early before the other patients would wake up, something I found myself doing quite often as well. However, she never came.
