She was the girl who was afraid of love. Terrified of it. It isn't permanent, she believed, it leaves you and it leaves you broken.
He was the boy who desperately needed it. Love--the only thing that could've rooted him to this world.
Ophelia and...
“lay here and lose time with me, let me tell you of all the things I adore about you.”
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When I made my way back to the apartment, there were still people there. Luce's college friends.
I decided to spare a few minutes when she dragged me over from the front door to the kitchen counter, introducing me to some very new faces. Everyone was extremely nice. I, on the other hand, felt a bit too exhausted.
That's why I excused myself early and headed over to my room.
"You're not gonna have dinner?" Luce followed me inside, opening the door just a little to fix her gaze on me.
I shook my head and took off my shoes before sprawling down on my bed, face-first. I felt too lethargic to even take off the dress I was wearing.
"I ate stuff at the party." I lied.
She didn't seem to believe me so easily. "Are you sure? I made some--"
"I'm fine, Luce." I mumbled, trying to keep my eyes open. "I'm just gonna sleep. Really. Have fun with your friends."
She smiled and closed the door just as my eyelids closed shut.
I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke up, it was still dark outside. The moon was still up in the sky with almost half of my room basking in its glow. However, there were no noises and chatters outside and I figured the guests must've left.
When I sat up on my bed, trying to rub off the sleep from my heavy eyelids, I noticed the door was left open ajar and the lounge outside was dark too. Luce must've closed the lights.
I groggily took off my coat, noticing the slight heaviness in it. I was still in the short green dress, still in my leggings, which surprisingly felt comfortable enough for me to still not want to change into my pajamas. Or maybe it was just the laziness.
So I ended up crawling near the window beside my bed after taking out the brown leather journal from my coat, and sitting there with the duvet tucked under my chin. Then I slowly opened the journal, randomly going through the pages.
Nothing seemed to make sense at first, but then I came across a few lines.
Murder at the Hawthorne mansion. Two victims. A homicide? No one was found guilty. No evidence. No traces of blood. Just two dead bodies at the crime scene.
I closed it shut just as quickly.
"What the fuck." I whispered to myself. It was way too early for me to be reading stuff like that. Maybe I'd just ask Alastair what this all was about. Tomorrow.
I stared down at the journal in my hands, at the leather cover, tracing my fingers over the small circle engraved at one corner. Police property.
