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Chapter 64 - Scarlett

                                                                   64.  

                                                            ●•Scarlett•●

Scanning through the pages was one thing; letting the words sink in was another completely different one. And I was not doing that, for sure. How the hell I’d even found that book? I couldn’t remember. It must’ve probably been inside some cabinet in the living room for a long while, thrown there because basically all of our shelves had been ripped off the wall due to previous arguments. Either way, the book had to be old, rusty-smelly already, pages a bit torn, darkened on the edges, some of them even dog-eared.

And the story was not even interesting, but.

The house was clean, that’s the thing. I’d done possibly everything that had to be done, trying to keep my mind away from Harry just a tad bit. I needed distraction, because it was becoming utterly pathetic how dependant of him I was, therefore, when we weren’t together, I did my best to not keep stuck to the moments we actually were. And I’d spent my day just working on daily tasks, sweeping around the house and washing the dishes; grocery shopping and making dinner, leaving the leftovers inside the fridge in case Tyler came home hungry that night.

And still, seeing curly during his lunch break just couldn’t seem to vanish from my thoughts. Doing whatever I needed to do was simply not enough to make me forget how he looked fondly at me, as he always did. And he was so sweet and lovely and cheeky, that damn bastard. I was seriously starting to feel like I might need to keep him for like, a long, long time.

So, basically, I’d stared at the ceiling for long minutes, walked from one side to the other, stared out the window, even thought of maybe going to Lana’s, but it was still the middle of the week and it was night, late, and she probably just wanted to make some popcorn and watch a Disney movie with Angel. I’d stop by on the weekend, I was sure. But for now, a book would have to solve it.

Well, it didn’t.

I read the paragraph again, squinting my eyes a bit, focused on the words, knowing their meaning, but not getting to filter it. Actually, it was annoying; annoying how I read and read and read, and all I got from that was a hell of a headache, and this stupid feeling inside my chest that made me want to throw the book against the wall, so infuriated. I couldn’t understand whatever I was reading! And for God’s sake, I swear I tried. I was trying!

For a moment, I rested the book on the back of the couch, making sure it touched the wall behind it so that it wouldn’t slip and fall against my stomach. Then I stretched my arms and legs – so hard I felt my soul nearly leaving my body –, hearing as the bones on my neck cracked loudly, relieving some pressure. After, I blinked a few times, letting my eyes fall shut for longer seconds than the necessary, seeing letters everywhere instead of the usual darkness.

Maybe I’d been trying too hard, but who cares, really? I needed to remove the spider webs from inside my brain, since it’d been so long I’d found my time to just sit down and actually read something. And probably I’d forgotten how to do it properly, or maybe I hadn’t; it was just Harry’s fault, after all. He’s the one to blame.

Two or three minutes later, I opened my eyes, sighing loudly and groping the upholstery, looking for the book and hitting the cold wall instead. Didn’t take long, though, until I was staring at the moldy pages again, decided to get through the first chapter this time. Not even if that meant hours and more hours of mentally yelling at myself; killing my cells. I could do it.

I couldn’t.

All my focus went to space once I heard the sound of wheels passing over the gravel on the street, suddenly stopping, right in front of my house. Or at least, that’s how it sounded.