The Deal

The Red Roses

For the first time in our friendship, I am the one dragging Niall to a party and not the other way around.

"I don't understand why we have to go anyway," Niall grumbles as we make our way towards Harry's house, "Couldn't we just text him a half-hearted birthday message like a normal person?"

I bite back a laugh, shifting my present to my other hand, "No, we were invited, Niall! It would be rude not to come... I thought you two were friends, anyway?"

Despite their cold attitude towards each other on my porch last week, I knew the two to have been jovial otherwise. Niall gets along with everyone, it's impossible not to like him.

Oh, how hard I've tried.

Instead of answering, Niall responds with half-hearted shrug.

Sighing, I watch the tiny moths dance around the lamplight above us. The full moon casts its light upon our path, enveloping both of us in its eerie pale glow. When the moon is bright and bursting as it is tonight, it usually causes lunacy and strangeness on those who look upon its face.

The ancient Roman goddess, Luna, was the proprietor of the moon and was believed to ride a silver chariot across its face each night. Her name became the root-word for 'lunacy.' It's believed that the light of the full moon drives humans and animals alike mad: crime rates spike, emergency rooms reach capacity, and strange paranormal occurrences are reported on nights the moon's face is fully revealed. Lunacy or not, it's imperative to be careful on a full moon.

However, I've always found comfort in her nakedness, felt the most powerful in her light.

But, I find no comfort in her shine tonight. Even though my mother has vanished to wherever spirits go when they take a break from their hauntings I still feel haunted.

Lead has settled in my gut link an anchor, holding me in my guilt and gnawing worry. I've no clue where my hexed jar has gone and am scared to think of who may have seen me place it there. I'm even more fearful of who dug it up and for what purpose.

This great shame coupled with my anxiety over seeing Harry again after our argument earlier today makes my steps feel heavy on the concrete and my heart thud painfully against my ribs.

Not to mention, the other people I know attending this party tonight.

I'm not sure who I'm less excited to see: the cruel Liam or the snide Zoe?

It becomes hard to swallow at the thought, but I shove these worries down like I always do. I am not going tonight for them, I am going for Harry. To thank him for washing the vile words from the shop door and to apologize for the argument we had. I know that he was simply frustrated at my inaction and I can't blame him for that. He doesn't understand my usual pacification or my belief in the justice of the universe.

How can I blame him for not understanding when I took matters in my own hands just this morning?

Our steps echo through the silent night and the closer we get to Harry's, the more my stomach begins to turn and lips ache from gnawing at them. I fight with the part of myself that wants to agree with Niall and ditch the party in favor for the comfort and solitude of my home.

But, I've been running from my problems my whole life and my feet are really beginning to ache.

Resolved, I take a deep breath of the crisp night air as a breeze flutters my long silk skirt and the knot below my breasts that ties my blue silk and lace blouse together. I was forced to change out of my mud soaked dress from earlier today, though the stains on my heart will be harder to get out.