The Good Girl's Property

7. "You Promised."

WARNING: DO NOT SLIP OVER PUDDLES OF TEARS

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: A SAD F*CKIN CHAPTER

NOT EDITED

I'll remember nights alone,

And waking up to dial tones.

Always found our greatest moments,

In the sound of your hellos.

Now I struggle to recall, the reasons you would come to leave.

Oh, calamity.

(Oh, Calamity! - All Time Low)

It's a new day. I repeat that line to myself over and over as I brush the warmly-toned powder over my cheeks, trying to give colour to my pale skin. The clock ticks to nine A.M., half an hour before my morning lecture. But, like any morning, I didn't really give a damn - besides, the more 'college' I look, the less I will be noticed.

That's just my excuse for wearing sweats and a Christmas jumper in October, by the way.

I tie my hair into a knot as I kick into my Converse. The flat is empty for the moment, Drew at work and me ... Well, me preparing for a Literature lecture.

How fun.

Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I plug my ear buds into my ears and step out of the apartment - casually glancing over my shoulders and seeing the busy, nine AM street.

"She saw the world through a mason jar, it's foggy," I hum under my breath, my step having a little bounce in it as I walked down the street with my chin up. My phone rings suddenly, making me pull out my headphones and almost trip over a younger girl. Well, she looks young - but I look fourteen, max, so she could be any age.

"I'm sorry," I rush, pushing past her to answer my phone. I take a breath as I see the restricted line across my screen.

Well, fuck.

"Hello?" I stammer though chattering teeth. I'm so cold suddenly, my hands don't warm as I rub my palms against my thighs.

"Dylan, how sweet it is to hear your melodic voice," V 's tone is cold and unwavering as he chuckles humourlessly at the other end of the line. "You see, my beautiful Dylan Elizabeth, I'd definitely like to see your face again-"

"I don't give a damn," I hiss into the line, preparing to hang up when his voice, commanding and loud, stops me.

"The girl, the one with the red and black hair!" He threatens. I gasp. Fuck. Lia. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm not the only one besides your pretty-faced boyfriend's father to hit it where it hurts."

I take a shuddering breath, folding one arm over my stomach. "Fine. When, and where?" I feel the rage seep into my veins. This bitch is going to take a beating.

"The cafe on sixth. Fifteen minutes," he chuckles darkly into the line. "See you there, sugar."

***

So here I am. Standing outside of a slightly busy 50s-like diner with my palms shaking and my face white. There's something stuck in my throat that doesn't seem to want to go away. My heart is beating fast in my chest and I can't control it.

I hesitantly push open the door, debating releasing it and booking it for my life. But I can't. This is for Lia. Not only Lia, this is for Drew, this is for Noel, this is for Oliver, hell...

This is for me.

I need to see the bastard crash and burn.

My eyes burn with angry tears as I shove the door wide open, shocking the hostess in the front who was busy with a book that was now casted face-down on the desk-like mantle she was working at. She stammered and picked up a menu.