"H-how long.." Ember asked, trembling as the man slowly walked back and forth- eyeing her unceasingly.
"Sweetheart. If you really knew how long I've watched your boring, pathetic life- you'd be more scared of me then you are now, and I'm far too in...
He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right. I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night.
Deze afbeelding leeft onze inhoudsrichtlijnen niet na. Verwijder de afbeelding of upload een andere om verder te gaan met publiceren.
The ceiling fan spins quickly, creating some noise in the otherwise silent bedroom. The light string clinks against the fan string every couple of seconds and twirls around itself. On the unmade bed there lies an unfinished english paper, long forgotten by the girl who should've finished it by now. Ember, her name is, takes place somewhere other than her bedroom studying. Where she should be.
Ember walks down the cold and paved sidewalk miles away from her home. The dress on her freezing body sways with every step she takes. It leaves nearly no warmth in the cold December air. A cardigan hugs her arms. She would've put on more if she knew she'd be out this late. Her padded feet tap on the concrete floor carelessly, but her face holds almost any emotion but carelessness. Eyes gleam with tears, barely holding on but not daring to fall. Chapped lips roll themselves into her mouth as a habit, especially when she's in fear or stressed.
This would've been a perfect time for him to get her. He realizes that now, and wishes he would've been there. He was busy at Niall's house, playing video-games. He was a businessman, he never had chances like those for a break. He spent his real breaks watching over her.
The street is vacant with the exception of few passerby's that don't make an effort to stop and question what was wrong. How cruel people could be. Maybe she was immature for thinking that they would care enough to listen to her tale, but that didn't make it any less rude. People were rude. That much had been gathered from the sight earlier that night. She passes a café, called Sunny Café. Her feet almost guide her away from the blinking sign and warm smell of coffee, but she drags herself backwards. Fortunately, the shop was open.
A little bell dings as the door opens and closes. Barely anybody is seated in the café, as expected. Who would order coffee at this time of night? She wouldn't be doing that. She looks around for some sort of staff in the small space, but is unable to find anyone. It's just her; alone.
A short sigh falls from the girl's lips as she spins on her heel in the direction of a booth. She picks the one closest to the door, so that it's not too much work to leave. Complimentary napkins are placed on the marble table, as expected, but Ember seems to find this gesture heart-warming. It could possibly be due to the streams of salt-water rolling down her cheeks, which have yet to dry. It could be that nobody has been nice to her tonight and that she needed just a tad of comfort. Either way, she smiles weakly as her nimble fingers grasp onto a strip of cloth and pull it out of its case.
The tissue is rough and dry, quite a difference from her soft and obviously wet cheeks. The material itches her skin and leaves it more red than it was before.
She hasn't gotten a waiter, but feels more relieved than upset at that. Talking is one thing she certainly doesn't want to do at this moment. She fears that if she tries to put words into a sentence she might break. Her breaths are shaky, but she breathes slowly in an attempt to calm herself down.
