Dear Jack (Visual Story)

Chapter Eleven

Tyler

I was going out of my mind. It had been two days since I had heard from sad lonely girl, and Piper hadn't shown up for class in the same amount of time.

I wondered if it was coincidence, but more I wondered if they were both alright. I had been by Piper's dorm several times over the course of the two days, each time finding the door locked and the room seemingly empty.

Today, I begged the guard to open the door just to make sure she wasn't dead, laying in a pool of her own blood. At first he refused, but when I offered him a hundred dollar bill he quickly opened it. Money always seemed to talk around here.

The room was dark and empty. I told him to leave, flashing a second hundred so he would walk away. I flipped on the lights. There was a pool of dried blood on the floor, and the comforter had several blood spots on it. It was tossed carelessly in the floor like it was an after thought.

Panic coursed through my veins, but I quickly calmed myself. If something had happened it would have been spread around campus by now. I would know. They couldn't exactly hide a suicide around here. Besides, there wasn't enough blood for a death.

She probably just needed a vacation. She is probably embarrassed to show her face knowing I know.

I kept telling myself that so that I wouldn't go to darker places. Places that only made me worry more.

I spent an hour in her room, tidying up the mess and scrubbing the floors. I didn't want her to return to a memory of that, if she even returned at all. Her things were still here, so surely she would return for them.

She would return and I would get a chance to apologize again, to make things right. I didn't have the right to do what I did, and regardless if it came from a good place, I never should have forced my hand. Forcing my hand was the worst thing I could have done. I knew that now.

If ever I owed Piper an apology, it was now.

On my way out the door, I grabbed the comforter, balling it up and tucking it under my arm. I didn't want to get rid of it, because it smelled like her, but I also didn't want her to see the blood stains and have the urge to cut herself again. I didn't want her to ever do that again.

I had wanted to take her box, to take it far away, but it was already gone. Probably with her where ever she was.

I considered for a moment she hid it somewhere else, knowing I knew about it, but I wasn't going to search through her things to find it. That would be bordering on creep. What I was doing now was bordering on creep, so I didn't want to cross the line further. At least this part had come as a result of good intentions.

As far as I'm concerned, she'll never even know I was in this room. She'll notice the changes but hopefully she will dismiss them as someone else having done it.

When I made it back to the penthouse, I lifted the comforter to my nose and inhaled, trying to commit her scent to memory. It was floral, with a vanilla undertone.

I realized I seriously was a creep, so I shoved it into the top of my closet. I didn't know who I had become since all of this started, but I knew I was no longer the man my reputation said I was.

I didn't care anymore about that stupid shit, or even what people thought of me. I hadn't bedded a girl in almost three months, and I hadn't even wanted to. All I wanted was her. And her.