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“Come to the house for eight. See you then.” And with that he hangs up, cutting the line dead.
“And what if I don’t want to?” I mutter to myself. “Not that it matters what I want.”
“Hello?” a soft voice calls before Miss Sander’s head pokes out from behind a row of books.
I force a smile at her. “Good morning, Miss. I’m okay here, right?”
“Of course, Elliot. You’re always welcome, you know that,” she says sincerely.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“I’ll leave you to it. I’m tidying up the historical section if you need me.”
I smile again and she disappears down the endless row of books.
Ignoring the textbook before me, I turn to stare out the window. The sun has crept over the trees casting the entire campus in a warm orange hue.It should probably make me feel better, but it does very little to warm the ice that’s filling my veins right now.
By the time I leave just over an hour later to start my day, I’ve still achieved nothing other than obsess over everything I don’t have the power to change.
This is probably why Scott has always done so much better than me. He doesn’t care about anything but his own gain.
If I cared less, then I might just achieve everything that’s expected of me.
But I don’t want all that.
I’d rather care. I’d rather hurt and experience life instead of just stomping through it and taking what I wanted without a thought for anyone else or how my actions affect them.
The second I pull the library door open to make my escape, I come almost face to face with the one person I care most about.
It’s her red hair that catches my eye first. But it’s not like it used to be. Instead of being full of life and waves, it’s limp and flat.
Something in me dies a little more that she’s still not looking after herself.
Abi is too busy looking down at her feet, attempting to hide from the world to notice me standing there right in her way. And it’s not until the very last minute that she sees my shoes and attempts to dart around me.
Unlucky for her, I’m faster.
Without thinking, my arm darts out, stopping her from running away from me.She startles and attempts to pull herself from my grasp, but now I’ve got her, I can’t let her go.
Pulling her toward me, I hold tight, indulging for just a few seconds in her sweet scent.
“Let me go,” she whispers, still trying to fight. “I don’t need?—”
“Abigail,” I growl, cutting off her argument and commanding her to look up at me.
But she refuses. Her head stays down, hiding from me.
“Red,” I warn. “Don’t make me?—”
She doesn’t let me finish my threat.
Her head lifts and for the first time in days, I get a chance to look into her dark and haunted eyes.
I knew what the girls have been telling me was bollocks. But seeing her pain staring back at me just proves that I’m right.
She’s still not dealing with any of this properly.
It makes me wonder—and not for the first time—what lows she’s been reduced to without me watching over her twenty-four seven.
