Saints & Sinners

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen:

Shockingly, I found myself standing there, by the orphan blue store, Thistle Do Nicely, peaking through the window. I didn't know why I was there, especially at a time like this, and in this weather. It was soaking, the rain was pelting from the sky.

The entire village was empty, the only thing to console away the darkness of the Prussian blue sky were the flickering lamp-posts that dotted the townscape. I was drenched, my hair was sticking to my face, rain was dribbling from the tip of my nose and off the edge of my lips. I could feel it seeping into my pyjamas and my shoes, completely drenching my entire body in cold rainwater.

Why was I even here? It was late at night, when I'd snook out of the house it was nearing seven, and the sky had already started darkening as I descended the mountainside to get to the village. I had no idea where I was going, and then I found myself outside this stupid flower shop, peaking in, trying to see anything.

No, that's not right, I was looking for something.

Someone.

Him.

The lights were on, and they were the only lights that illuminated the town square other than the speckles of lamps across the road. Being here, in the shuddering rain, seemed better than being back in that ancient Viking stronghold my aunt actually had the decency to call a cottage. It was a monstrocity, and it was a wonder it survived so long. But being here was still better than being up there, being on the mountain, alone, dreaming of things I couldn't have.

That was what woke me up, I'd drifted off at around five after reading The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens, but my dreams, they terrified me, I woke up sweaty and sticky and I couldn't take it. I had to get out, I couldn't stay locked up in that awful loft a moment longer. So I ran.

I kept asking myself, why was I here?

But I never came up with an answer, no matter how hard I tried. There was a reason, I just refused to think of it. I didn't want to believe it, but it was true. I dropped to the soaking floor, practically sitting in a puddle of water, splashing more all over me. I was already dripping anyways, so what was the point in getting a little more wet?

"Do I like him?" The words almost caught in my throat, but I forced them out, even surprising myself with my fearlessness. "I don't want to like him," I told myself again. "I can't like him. I like girls, I don't like Tristan. Not him. Not him." I pulled my hands through my hair, agitated with myself. I couldn't like him, he was a guy, I didn't like guys. Since when? Since never.

Since him.

But that smile, that contagious, gorgeous, effortless, toothy, crooked smile; those absolutely gleaming blue eyes, those fucking eyes! I was pulling at my hair, letting a low wail escape my mouth at the sudden strike of pain in my scalp. Even then, I refused to stop. I couldn't like him. I was so irritated, so confused, so absolutely, positively, ultimately, shockingly confused. But I still couldn't like him. Not a him, not another him. Because I wasn't... or at least, I couldn't be...

I couldn't even say the word now, it freightened me just thinking about that three lettered word, those three simple letters that changed an entire person's life at their single thought, the simple utterance and I felt like I wouldn't be myself anymore, I'd be someone else, someone worse. It terrified me, I was shaking, and not just from the cold.

I was crying. I didn't know why, I hardly ever cried. What was there to cry about before I came here? I had nothing to lose before I came here, my mothers didn't care about me, I had no friends or family, we moved every few weeks so there was no stability at all, no time for me to actually have a life, and to have things that I could lose and cry over. And that only made me sob harder, the warm tears trickling down my face heavily. They just seeped out, I couldn't stop them, I didn't want to stop them.