𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 || ᴛ. ʜᴏʟʟᴀɴᴅ

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

•°•♤•°•

"DOUBT"

-sorting things out.

"He was there Liz and that scared me-"

ELIZABETH WAS EXPECTING HER FRIEND TO RING HER DOORBELL WEARING ONE OF HER FAMOUS SMILES. But it seemed like life likes to change it course and take a different route deciding what's best. So when the blonde model opened her door hearing the bell, wearing her nerdy glasses, hair in a low ponytail, and dinner ready on the stove. The first thought that comes to her is;

'Oh shit. Not again.'

Then; 'Life really does change things. But the route is still the same.'

Amaya was standing in front of her, her eyes red and puffy. Her lips were slightly chapped, her chest was heaving softly like she was having a hard time breathing.

Elizabeth hasn't seen her friend like this since their entrance exam for college and the job interview Amaya did for the magazine a few years ago.

Which meant whatever the hell happened to Amaya was bad. Really, really bad.

The blonde girl mentally groans, cutting back the urge to curse at her friend and yell: why today? Why now? She doesn't want to deal with this tonight, not today. She had a rough day at work too--getting home late and making dinner for herself and friend whose supposed to be in a happy-lucky-go mood right now.

But she's not, she wasn't. Her posture was slumped with exhaustion and her face practically screamed sadness and pain.

Elizabeth doesn't even bother to hide her loud sigh and the fast rolling of her eyes. She leans on her door frame, flickering her gaze on Amaya's outfit, trying to find anything strange or something at least poking out the norm. She then brought her gaze to Amaya's hands, unable to find anything strange on her outfit, and noticed her red rimmed wrists.

Like--she was being held by itchy ropes and rubbed her wrists against them struggling to get out.

Finally, she met her friends gaze. Amaya's tearful expression, wide glimmering brown eyes, and unshed tears telling Elizabeth everything. What she needed to know, and understand making the model press her lips and cross her arms.

She knows what happened to her friend, or knows enough that it was Tom who put in this distraught state.

She knows it's Tom from Amaya's look only. The black girl always had wide eyes and flushed cheeks around him, occasionally biting her lip to suppress her real emotions and opinions from him.