𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘠𝘰𝘶

Second Thoughts

Chapter Eight: 😔

"Erica. Would you hate me if I told you the honest truth?" I asked, sheepishly.

She sat on the couch, looking up at me tiredly, the following morning. She tilted her head, confused.

"Truth about what?"

I sighed, trying to think of how to put my irrational feelings into plain words.

"I don't know what it is. But I'm not happy"

"With me?" she questioned.

"No. I don't know. Something about my life feels incomplete. Anything I say or do is just empty words. I'm not really meant to be here. So what is my purpose?"

"I don't understand what you mean" she said, sharply.

"I think" I stuttered, trying to keep calm and content. "I need to talk to Esme"

Erica remained silent for a moment. I couldn't quite tell how she was going to react, or what her next sentence would be. From what I could decipher, she was a passive-aggressive person; but I wasn't to hold that against her.

She then sighed.

"Why am I not surprised?"

I became rather shocked to her response, she sounded tired or fed-up.

"Guys are all the same, aren't they?"

"No. I don't think you understand Erica"

"I refuse to believe that you're not still thinking about her every day" she muttered, standing up and beginning to pace around the room.

I shook my head. "No, that's not it"

"Then what? Why would you need to talk to the girl that's been 'out of your head' for ages?"

"I feel as if it's the right thing to do"

She scoffed. "Do I dare remind you that she tried to kill you?"

"She didn't. She tried to scare me away"

"So you're going to defend Esme now?" she asked, yelling so slightly that it upset me to hear her voice crack so desperately. She was hurt, but so was I. What was I to do?

"I get that you're angry"

"I'm not angry, Caden. I'm confused!" she urged, still with a raised voice. "You tell me she's gone. You promised me that she wouldn't bother us again-"

"No you said that" I corrected. I know I was out of order at that moment but I wasn't going to take the blame for something Erica had said.

She shook her head, and smirked. It wasn't out of happiness though, I was sure.

"Just go to her" she snarled. "If that's where you loyalties lie"

I stood for a moment, trying to think of another way to make her understand, but I could not. Anything I could say to Erica would just upset her even more.

So, to avoid another mess, I left. It wasn't long before I was outside the apartment block, hurrying down the street, in hopes of finding the one person I found myself longing to talk to.

Esme:

"I don't feel too good" I said to my manager, at the coffee parlor. I was fine, but needed some excuse to leave. I had to go.

He nodded.

"Go home, if you must"

"Thanks a million" I said, still pretending to have the foulest of headaches.

I grabbed my jacket and strolled out of the building, into the open.

I'd remembered what they guy had told me yesterday. Return to the arcade tomorrow, and maybe the machine will be fixed.

So now was my chance to see. I headed down town, towards where the arcade was; it was only a few blocks away but the journey felt like a horrid trek.

To be honest, I felt as if I'd been walking forever.

But then I reached the arcade, debating whether to go inside or not. A few kids looked at me funnily, as I hesitated my entry through the door. Yet, I ignored them. They weren't the thing to be worrying about right now.

I headed over to where the 'wishing machine' once stood, and watched as two middle-aged mechanics worked on it with zero motivation.

"Excuse me?" I asked, nudging one of them. He turned to me, chewing something obnoxiously and staring me down like I was some kind of walking disease. "Sorry to bother you. But when will this thing be up and running again?"

"Give us thirty minutes, sweetheart. Clive, here, reckons a wire tripped or something"

"So it'll work again? In half an hour"

"Sure it will"

So I proceeded to do the hopeless, dumb thing and wait. I found myself sitting down in the café area of the arcade, twiddling my thumbs as I waited. And waited, and waited. Hoping that I could put a coin into that machine just one last time; and everything can be just how it was, months ago.