The Fall [2]

Fifteen

❝ Bambi ❞

Life has been unicolored before, painted in the only shade she knew. Home. For Amber, she had thought, home was the start and the end to her story. Brought up in a family with decreasing size, she increasingly began to distance herself from the dangerous periphery of her own comfort zone―up until she could no longer do that.

On account of that, things have changed.

Motels. Strip bars. Money and guns galore―lowlife at its finest. The shades her life is painted in now are nowhere near the black and white frame she used to think in. No. Everything is grey.

The motel room appears like a breathing organism―by day it is merciful, showing empathy; it lets her breathe. But by late night, by the time any sign of sun has disappeared from the sky, it devours her like an animal; stifles her with its sickening, musty bed sheets, weighs down on her with its gruesome, too familiar darkness.

It only feels worse now that she's alone.

Seth has been gone for two hours.

Minutes after he left, she awaited the car to start, the headlights to shine right through the shutters, but nothing happened. Yet, he took off.

But where did he go?

Could be the bar across the road. Could be another strip joint. Could be no destination at all.

He won't be gone for too long.

At least that's what she keeps telling herself.

No, Amber thinks. He won't leave her. He's got all his stuff here.

"He's got me here."

Whatever is happening between them, he won't leave her.

Her eyes flicker to the table. He even left his gun here.

But what if he did decide to leave?

She tries to think of reasons. They fight, but there is nothing less to expect from two people who are constantly around each other, having been nothing but stranger only three months ago.

There doesn't always have to be a reason to leave.

Abandonment. She doesn't take it well. Daddy issues, brother issues, uncle issues. The entirety of the male race in her life appears to depart, leave her, abandon her; all for reasons that are out of her control. She doesn't take it well. No. She doesn't take it well at all.

Involuntarily, moments of the Twister replay in her mind―moments she thought she was never gonna be able to reflect on again, because she'd be dead. Sometimes, at her weakest times, she does wish that.

And what was all that talk about Richie?

Richie. He is the explosive Seth needs to blow over. Pour a little Richie in the conversation, Seth will ignite. Mix him into this cocktail of their weird relationship; Seth's gone.

He cares. That's why.

Seth Gecko is not made of stone after all.

Maybe she isn't naive to believe. Maybe he cares after all.

Yeah, he cares about you caring about the only person that he trusted, the person that has hurt him terribly.

Her stomach coils at the thought of Seth hurting. Of him closing in, building up a wall to shield himself of confrontation because he cannot bear it. Not when it comes to his brother. It pains her so much to think of him, experiencing such devastation, she begins to feel it physically.