𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 ✔️

3.

This is how I picture Monroes apartment (one room apartment) just imagine the tv as the fireplace

Monroe woke up with the heat against her skin the sharp corners of the pages of her book hitting her cheeks only to realize she fell asleep where she laid last night; the fireplace.

She looked at the clock to see it was noon, making herself two pieces of toast and a small cup of tea while she sat down reading her book. Eventually she finished and got ready for the day. Since there wasn't much to do today; considering today was her day off, she decided to go to the library and read there.

She hated being by herself for the most part. Being in a space full of nothing but silence, that's when the demons started to play with her head.

The silence was too much as it left Monroe with her thoughts filled with hatred and sorrow. Her mind thought of nothing but troubling things and filled it to the brim. That's why she always turned on the fireplace or some type of little sound to avoid any quietness that could potentially fill the thick air.

It was too quiet for her however and she needed to be in a new environment which in this case was the library.
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The library was quiet, way too quiet and not even the sentences nor the words of the book could erase the thoughts out of her brain.

You don't deserve to live.

You're nothing, a waste of space on this earth.

No wonder why he left you.

Stop telling yourself lies they hate you and they will never forgive you.

"Shut up," she almost yelled and she got up and took her book and left when Monroe saw the few stares she was receiving.

She tried to ignore the thoughts in her head but they constantly clouded her thoughts and everything going on in her mind that it was impossible to think of nothing more but the life she thought she didn't deserve to have.

And she thought they were right, she was worth nothing and she was nothing but a waste of space.

Don't let anyone in, they'll leave you, I wasn't worth it, no one would love me, no one would care for me.

The tears were coming as Monroe felt a tiny drop leak from her eye but she wiped it quick. She couldn't cry and she refused to cry because then everyone would be able to see right through her and she couldn't allow that to happen.

She bumped into someone and she couldn't really  bring herself to mumble an apology or her tears.. the sadness, the pain would show . The pain would become more prominent and everyone would know and she needed it to keep it locked away.

"You know the least you could do is apologize," the British voice said but she couldn't bring herself to say anything or she would cry and he would know.

So Monroe simply walked past him, the man with the British voice. The one with the troubling eyes and the one with his body inked up with stories.

Monroe felt a hand grab her book and she immediately turned to look at the troubling boy.

"Give it back to me," she mumbled quietly so he couldn't hear her voice crack even the slightest.

"You left my car last night," he said instead of giving her the book- no not just a book, one of the most valuable things left that she owned, the only thing that reminded her of... him.