Carter (e)

658 14 1
                                    

Carter
29.
The sound of Hazel's voice flooded through my house. The light sound, usually soft, held an edge that made me stop short outside of her door in surprise.

"Can you please stop calling me?" Said Hazel's angry voice.

Although I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, I couldn't help but to stop my ascent on the stairs to listen to Hazel's unusually hard voice. With her door left slightly ajar, I could see her defeated expression, one hand propped under her chin. Warmth flooded through me, an unfamiliar bout of concern that made me wonder who it was that Hazel was speaking to.

It wasn't long before she gave me her answer.

"No—mom, I told you—I said I'm doing just fine on my own."

As the silence followed, I watched Hazel's shoulders slump, her cheeks red with anger and eyes even darker than they already were. I knew that look because it was one she gave me often.

"I will."

More silence continued after those two words, continued to stare as Hazel's gaze fell into her hands. I noticed her brows furrow, the frustration clear as she went to open her mouth to speak.

"No—I-I'm still—"

Hazel wanted to say more, but with a sharp intake of breath, pulled the phone from her ear and let it tumble onto the bed with a quiet thud.

Her gaze looked defeated, pressing me to go in there and ask if everything was okay. Those ever unfamiliar emotions of warmth and concern that kept me lingering by her door and left wondering what she was thinking.

But as much as I wanted to, I was all the more afraid, and could feel my heart pounding at the thought of going in there. Because caring meant getting attached, and being attached meant getting hurt. And that was a thought that I didn't want to bear.

Still, I slipped past Hazel's bedroom with a weight pressing deeper into the pit of my stomach.

For the rest of the night, Hazel didn't say more than a few words to me, the silence that I usually craved felt more defeating than anything else.

Where I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone while the tv screen played some reality show, Hazel was perched on one of the chairs in the kitchen scrolling mindlessly through hers.

I couldn't help but wish that she was sitting beside me. A stupid, silly thought that made me stay glued to the couch on a second, rational thought.

Then, an idea occurred to me, and stood to my feet to make my way into the kitchen.

Coffee most definitely wasn't the greatest idea at this time of night, but I hardly cared. Actually, I welcomed the thought of staying awake, and would have completely forgotten about Hazel if it weren't for her penetrating stare. Her eyes followed my every move.

This isn't for Hazel, I tried to remind myself, but her sunken features made me feel otherwise.

"What?" I snapped coolly once I took my seat across from her. My voice sounded annoyed, though I felt anything but.

Hazel's dark eyes fell to my steaming coffee cup. They narrowed in confusion. "Why are you drinking coffee at nine o' clock at night?"

ShatteredWhere stories live. Discover now