They keep telling me that I should just let her go, let that night rest and move on with my life.
They don't realise that I still wake up in the middle of the night, sobbing for Chance and sobbing for myself and sobbing for the fucked-up world with...
The Count starts whining at the duck egg-blue front door, begging for her to come out.
"C'mon, pal..." I say half-heartedly, and then that's when he gets it. She's not here.
He hangs his head and mopes alongside me. Glancing back to check she's not about to come running out, yelling at us for leaving without her.
Though this time, I'm the one yelling. She left without me.
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The woods are full of life, even though it's the start of autumn. But the sounds of birds and squirrels are comforting, whereas I know if it was quiet, the silence would be oppressive.
I unclip the Count's lead and let him run free, knowing that the woods are safe.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I follow the Count and tap through people's Snapchat stories — only doing it so the fact they're 'unseen' doesn't annoy me. Call it OCD or whatever, but I just like things being under control.
I pay attention to Max's story, considering he is my friend and all. There are a couple of pics of him walking to school with some people from our physics class who I don't really know, then a random pic of me looking studious. He must've snapped whilst I was working in the library at some point today.
I didn't even really see him today, I realise. My best friend, other than Chance, and I barely spent any time with him at all today. We'd been friends since the start of high school, he's also into physics and skating — a combination of hobbies that isn't very common. We're kinda on the border between cool skater guys and geeky nerds, meaning our potential range of friends is wide and complicated, to say the least.
His full name's actually Maxwell. But we don't mention the 'well' part of it.
Snapping a quick photo of the Count, I upload it to my story. Trying to stay relevant. But ultimately failing, of course.
Without Chance, I slip through the cracks of life and end up at the bottom of the rubbish heap — along with all the other teenage failures.
From out of nowhere, the Count starts barking. Frowning, I rush towards him, clenching my phone tightly in one hand and his lead in the other. Branches crack under my feet, heightening my anxiety and confusion.
When I reach him, his hackles are raised up and he's growling. I look around quickly, scanning the woods for anyone else.
Then someone runs into me, scaring the shit outta me and knocking me tumbling to the floor.
"Rory?!" They exclaim, their weight resting heavily on my chest — meaning they took us both down.
The world's gone blurry, so I blink rapidly until the fog clears and I can see who's landed on me.
"Lilia?" I grin as I recognise the brunette who's sprawled over me. Now that the Count recognises the fact I know her, he calms down instantly, before sitting down and licking his bits.
