𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 || 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞

murderer on the dancefloor

*im sorry this title is so unserious*
—
༄ "𝐋𝐈𝐙, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍?" Rebecca said, grabbing an orange out of the fridge.

"I've been here all day."

Rebecca shook her head and peeled the orange open. "No, in general. You've been at Hawthorne House more?" That wasn't a question, because Rebecca already knew the answer.

Frustration was building inside of me. "No." Rebecca gave me a pointed look. "What do you want me to say? A couple of days ago I had a big fight with Jameson that led to glass shattering, I haven't talked to Grayson in, like, forever— I visited Emily's grave yesterday and—"

"What?" Rebecca dropped her orange.

"Listen, i'm not—"

Lottie barged into the kitchen, disrupting any kind of conversation— or argument me and Rebecca were about to have. "Girls, I need your help." The panic on her face was enough to shut the both of us up.

"What's going on?" Rebecca asked.

Lottie waved her hand. "Come here." She walked into the living room, and without sparing Rebecca a second glance I followed her.

Avery was laid out on the couch, pain visible on her face and.. blood. Everywhere.

"Oh— what happened?" I could feel Rebecca behind me.

Jameson shot his head up. "You two are here?" he looked at Andrew who just shook his head.

Lottie kneeled down next to Avery, placing a tender hand to her cheek. That probably felt good. My wrists. I latched on to them.

Just one more time. I had told myself. You deserve to feel this way— the pain. You deserve—

"Elizabeth!" Lottie yelled.

Dumbfounded, I snapped back into reality to see Rebecca standing next to Avery as well. Jameson was by her too. Close. Too close.

"Yes?" I said, trying to sound somewhat composed.

"Go get the first aid kit from down the hall."

I nodded. The first aid kit was in my bathroom, because keeping it in Emily and Rebecca's bathroom was too hard for everyone. It wasn't fair for Rebecca to have to ever go in there for any use— she used Lottie and Andrews bathroom now. 

So I keep it in mine.

I can take it.

After gathering all the materials I needed, I walked out of my bathroom and took long strides down the hall, until—

"Let me help you." Jameson.

"I told you, i'm fine." Avery.

Stay out of this. The voice in my head told me. But I couldn't move. It was as if I was paralyzed at the sound of his voice with hers. Quietly, I shuffled toward the wall and creeped up right before the doorframe.

"You're a terrible liar." His voice was smooth— caring. My heart ached. "Heiress, you need to let me help you."

Heiress.

I'm going to throw up.

There was silence, and I hated silence because it only meant one thing. "Jameson," Avery said, her voice too low. Too calm.

Someone just hit the wall.

No. No. No.

Who will want you as you are? Emily's voice said.