AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To what? I told you from the beginning Echo—“
“You’re right.”
“What?” He says, stumbling like my agreeance shocks him.
“You’re right,” I say again, trying to find some composure. I’m still shaking. I need to get this out so I can explode alone.
“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you.”
His face twists in a grimace, but he doesn’t argue. Good. Fucker, I hope I hurt your feelings.
I don’t think I could say anything to him that would make us even in the pain he’s inflicted upon my soul.
Callum just stares. He looks like he has things he wants to say, but his mouth doesn’t even move. It’s all in his eyes. It’s a familiar expression after witnessing it every time we finished hooking up .
Except my dumbass had to go and imagine there was more. More to that expression. More to our relationship.
More to him.
“Just go Callum.” I sigh.
Please, just go.
He opens his mouth, and the tiniest spark of hope bursts free from the ashes in my chest. But he ruins it, killing that spark as he closes it and turns around, heading back inside.
The sound that tears from my throat isn’t human. It’s anger and heartbreak rolled into one. It’s painful, and I hope no one is around to hear me sob because I’d probably concern someone.
So many tears pour down my cheeks I’m sure I’ll be dehydrated when I can finally calm down. It feels like the more I release the more it hurts.
I hold my breath. I used to do that to stop crying when I was little. Crying shows weakness. The fact that Callum saw even a little bit of this…
I can’t do this again. No matter what I can’t feel this again.
A while ago, Scout had me watch Once Upon A Time with him. There’s a reoccurring thing in that show, where characters literally rip out and crush each other’s hearts. This kinda feels like that I’d imagine.
Never again. Not Callum or any other person, I refuse. I will never let anyone into my heart again.
It isn’t worth the risk.
Echo
3 1/2 years later
“We really need a new couch in here.” I lament. It’s true. This thing I’m laying on shouldn’t even be classified as such. It’s hard and damn near flat. Unacceptable.
My brother, Scout, sighs, “We don’t need new couches because you aren’t supposed to be laying down!” He threads his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands as if he’s extremely stressed by the situation.
The situation being practice.
Or the lack thereof. Hence the stressed twin.
I don’t get what the big deal is, we haven’t been here that long. Only like, half an hour.
My brother is a lowkey control freak. If we weren’t born on technically different days I wouldn’t know why we’re so different. I know twins aren’t supposed to be carbon copies, but we really don’t match. I’m not sure how much I believe in that astrology shit Kellen is always peddling, but there’s no other explanation for us being so completely opposite from each other.
I think music and our face is the only thing we share.
“We’re working.” Kellen says, not looking up from whatever him and Oliver are cooking up.
