Beasty | First Draft Sample

23

When do you know that it is over? The circle you've been going round and round in has now caused a hallow path in the ground. How do you know it's time to stop, and just stop pretending that you can't see it die anymore?

When do you know when to just sit, and let all the tears flow? Do you even know if you should let the tears flow? Or should you be mad?

What has to be the final extent to this charade that's being played? When does the curtain finally fall?

Is it okay to acknowledge that the fine red thread is breaking in the middle? When is it okay to leave?

Or are you already... gone?

"Is it that good?"

Hm?

I blinked — once, twice — before my eyes snapped up and met warm brown ones. Despite my moist vision, a soft smile spread across my face and I nodded.

"It's a great read."

"Say... what's the name of the book?" Matthew's eyes twinkled as he shifted in his seat upfront. Beside him, Romanov tapped his thumb impatiently against the wheel as he continued to drive us towards the castle.

We'd caught the 7pm flight from London, reaching Berlin as it was already moving towards sunset. Saying goodbye to everybody this time around was harder than the last. It was hard... having a home in more places than one. There was always someone to leave behind.

"Actually... it's a journal." I mumbled in response, my eyes running along the black leather binding on the old worn out diary.

"E. Leightmonshtein," I spoke the name of the owner under my breath as my fingers ran along the letters engraved on the leather cover.

"Well what is the journal about then? What good gossip did the earlier owner have to pour out into blank sheets of papers?" I matched Matthew's smirk as I pat the almost full journal warmly.

Poetic!

"Well — she got her heartbroken by her childhood sweetheart. Eight years of being in love and in the last entry she found out that for the past four... he had been courting someone else. Publicly."

Romanov scoffed from the driver's seat and Matthew's eyes widened on the now closed leather book — his lips curled with disgust.

"That's not all. In the latest entry, she is trying to express when it is fine to let go of him — because although he has the other woman, he simply isn't cutting ties with our writer as well. She doesn't know what he's feeling. I guess she just wants to know if he loves her or not—despite him being a lying scumbag."

"Read the next entry out loud!" Grayson straighten beside me, suddenly interested—his phone put aside.

Uncertainly, my gaze moved towards the diary again, feeling Romanov's eyes on me from the rear-view mirror. Matthew had now turned all the way in his seat— shotgun.

I released a low breath and slowly opened the journal to the page I had next to read. My thumb caressed the ancient page as I traced along the elegant slim writing, swirled, and curved into words. I began reading.

These passing nights have brought along many dreams. Death is a constant in all of these. Every warmth seems to be slowly fading — a chill even this velvet dress cannot defeat.