Lone [MATURE HS]

Chapter 42

"You're...pretty determined, Tara. We've been in the library for weeks. Classes are starting to pick up...are you sure, you're okay?"

Sighing heavily, I press my hands over the top of the laptop and push it closed, seconds later removing it from my lap and placing it on the floor next to me with care. I turn fully to Charlie, where he sits next to me in the same beanbag fashioned chair. "No. I'm not okay. I want to get out of this weird fucking trance as soon as possible. And to do that...apparently, I have to solve a murder and watch as it tears apart the love of my life all over again. I feel helpless, Charlie. Helpless."

I stand to my feet, figuring my little outburst meant I needed a break from the stuffy space we enclosed ourselves in. Charlie presses his lips together, widening his eyes and exhaling deeply through his nose. His silence and expression are indicative of his understanding for my outburst. He was not living this the way I was. It may appear as if he was his own person, with all the similar idiosyncrasies and Charlie-type habits, but he was a figment of my imagination. He was alive elsewhere, back in my nightmare, waiting for me to wake up, too. Along with my broken mother, Harry, Erin, and Nathan. I had to wake up from this, but only if I will be equipped to handle the things that await.

My body roams the halls aimlessly for a moment. I don't want to do anything in particular, think of anything. Sitting in my seminar class drew out so much of my focus, and all that was left was an unnecessary amount of anger, regret, and distress. I did not need any of those things right now.

Instead my mind roams the future I want to have with Harry. I know in our desperate need for comfort we've constructed this image of us both living in Washington State. I would probably take up editing until I grow tired of it. He'd go into that field of psychology he enjoys. Our child would probably be a boy, I had a gut feeling it would be. He'd look just him; his eyes, his hair, his smile. They'd take up finger-painting together. Harry wouldn't quit his artistic hobbies regardless of our busy lives and would pass them down to him. Harry would appreciate his role as a father, understanding what the abrupt absence of one could do to a person. I'd watch my child grow with a loving father, something that was missing in my own childhood. As a mother, I'd be just like mine, maybe a little more understanding, but nonetheless, I'd pick up some of the habits. The good ones, hopefully.

I didn't notice where I stood until I came across the vending machine. In that moment, too many of the details aligned, and I felt my eyes sting. The damn vending machine. A grimace curves my lips. Sniffling, I continue my walk and stand before the illuminated display of snacks. I look at the B5 choice, seeing the usual bag of cookies I snacked on like I had no clue what calories meant. Standing there, I gaze at the selection like I had genuine interest in buying anything. No doubt I looked emotional, and any passing individual probably thought it was over the snacks.

I make a decision. The transaction moves slower in my head, every mechanical noise lingering after I dug into the pocket of my black sweater for cash. While my hands were occupied with the bag of Chips A'hoy! I managed to retrieve, I hear shifting behind me. My head snaps back, my body oriented towards the noise. My heart lodges into my throat, eyes sprung wide open. I nearly drop the bag of cookies, feeling the shock paralyze my intentions to move, my thoughts, even.

Harry stands there, headphones plugged into his ears. He chews onto something repeatedly, gum. The beautiful green of his eyes gaze over my face, the neutral look of his expression giving the appearance that he didn't think much of my reaction, yet. As the seconds pass, the time accumulates, and he grows confused by my state of visible shock. I can hear the faint music playing in his ears, and I know the song he's listening to. My chest tightens so much. I inhale shakily and blink, lips parting as I struggle to say something, anything, still unsure if I should even speak to him.