maybe if she had been called beautiful before with so much drive, she wouldn't have been so
stuck
on the one drunk boy from the street.
but he had meant it in such a way―
she was doomed right from the start.
༻❁༺
―on a girl with bad days, the first b...
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「 II 」 TWELVE.
sob after sob racked her body—and she couldn't quite explain why.
her favorite Morrison t-shirt, the navy one with yellow stripes, draped baggily over her shaking body. she couldn't help but feel as though she had suffered a grand loss and it was all her own fault.
so she was at her parents' house once again. they had let her in, given her tear-stained face a half-glance, and disappeared back to their own lives without one word. she was sitting in her bedroom, the room she used to spend day after day studying in, covered in blankets in the sweltering heat of the summer because things just felt
so cold.
Morrison had dropped her off at her house the morning after his drunken rampage. they had stayed in the godforsaken guest room that night, and her fingers had reached for him in a desperate attempt to get him to hold her while they slept, even to face her instead of curling towards the wall like looking at her would turn him to stone, but he just wouldn't.
so she had grabbed his hand somewhere towards four a.m., and she would never know if he had been asleep or not when he responded instantly, squeezing her hand for a moment before skimming his thumb
back and forth
across her trembling knuckles. he wouldn't let go until he woke up that morning.
she didn't sleep much at all that night knowing Morrison was giving up on her. knowing he would be returning her to her hellhole the next morning in resignation.
the same went for this night.
12:04 a.m. she had been on-and-off crying since Morrison had remained silent on the car ride back to brutal reality.
12:17 a.m. she leaned down to bury her nose in the soft, worn fabric of Morrison's t-shirt. it smelled just like Morrison's warm, whiskey glow. she could barely stand it. it hadn't even been eighteen hours since she'd seen him and she was already being crushed by the weight of his dark finality.
12:22 a.m. her body resigned itself to dry heaving, so she sat and allowed it to fall apart.
12:39 a.m. the shaking began to subside. she sat. silent. still. somber. completely d e s t r o y e d. over a few hours without the boy with dark eyes.
12:47 a.m. her heart cried out for release. it had been so long since she'd felt this sense of bitter bitter aloneness.
12:50 a.m. a face she hadn't seen in days came to her mind, and it was so familiar, and her prefrontal cortex had been compromised to her controlling soul, so there was no stopping it.
12:51 a.m. she called Archer.
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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR TO YOU: since the last few chapters brought this book such great reception, i decided to release this one earlier than i would've.
thank you for all the lovely compliments and helpful feedback. i love all of you that have taken the time out to write these things for me, or even to vote silently. it's one of my sources of inspiration.
