Blinded [One Direction] ✔

Chapter 25 - Invitations & Favors

Whoever said taking a run helps clear your mind is a liar.

Maybe it was the way the wet gravel beneath me pulled at my feet, which had no intention of slowing down. Or maybe it was the Spring breeze that challenged me as it raced farther down the trail that was shadowed by the trees towering high above us.

Whatever it was-- I couldn't remember the last time I actually ran. It felt as if If I didn't run fast enough, my thoughts would swallow my subconscious whole. 

And as if that wasn't enough, the silence allowed negativity to engulf my mind. When I was around others, they would be the ones to take my mind off of things, but alone? I felt at danger. It was the one time my thoughts could run wild and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

I was panting, my face heated by the sweat that had submerged it and my eyes  burning because of the wind they had been battling. But I didn't want to stop. And I wouldn't have, if the clouds hadn't begun rumbling.

My aching legs began to slow down  when a bench came into sight just ahead. It was vacant, just how the peaceful trail had been at this early hour. I fell onto its metal surface, relief washing over my body at the immobilization.

My thoughts at the moment were racing faster than the bikers that zoomed by and the wind that whipped through the trees.

Had I done the right thing? And if so, how could doing the right thing feel so wrong?

It wasn't the first time I wished that I could clear my mind of every problem, every issue that tugged so consistently at it, and simply disappear. Like the morning sky that was curtained so heavily by the languidly moving clouds. It was so easy for it to escape the world--to remain hidden from the lightning bolts that perilously touched the ground. And the worst part was somehow knowing it wasn't the last time I'd feel this way.

I walked the rest of the way home lost in my own thoughts-- a place where I had been spending the majority of my ostensibly eternal time. The scene at the meadow was a major component of my distress.

I can try to tell you in a thousand different languages how I feel about you--how much I care about you, but it still would never be enough.

Those were the words that branded themselves into my head, repeating themselves much like a broken record.

A thousand languages.

I didn't need a thousand diverse languages to explain to Louis why I said what I said, yet I could never explain it to myself. It was to take his complications away, right? That's what you do when the one you love is troubled, isn't it? No matter how much it hurts or conflicts you. When Rose and I would cook together, she would never allow me to sharpen the knives. Even though I was old enough to handle it, she didn't want me to hurt myself, even though the knife could easily slip from her own hands. It may not be the same kind of love I shared with Louis, but it was love nonetheless. 

I never understood why Rose did it until now. In fact, the idea that she didn't think I could handle a lone knife irritated me to a tremendous extent. She didn't want me to hurt myself, just how I didn't want Louis to be as much as scathed--even if it was just a matter of his heart.

If only I was smart enough to know that nothing could be perfect. Nothing in this otherwise cruel world comes without a price, even the one element I considered to be most precious and desirable of all.

Not much later, I found myself standing at my doorstep. But I wasn't facing the door. Instead, my eyes were locked on the sleek black convertible that was mounted in the driveway. It certainly wasn't my parents' car and it wasn't mine either. Rose, Cal, and Nick were all ruled out, so who could it be?