𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢

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EMERY

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EMERY.

Why do I have to be so fucking awkward everywhere I go? I slowly creep down their dark hallway towards a door with tons of artwork covering the wooden door and under the door is a light. I know Addy is in there. Uncle Landon told me to go on and go upstairs to her room, but to knock first. Instead of arguing with him, because I'm too fucking lazy to, I followed his instructions and went upstairs. I can hear a soft rhythm of something in the room, and I'm certain she's listening to music.

I roll my eyes and huff. She's probably sitting on her bed painting on a huge canvas, a picture of her mom and dad for Christmas or some shit. They seem like a family to do overly nice things for each other.

I get to the door and reluctantly knock. I hear a small mumbled 'hold on,' and the music stops.

I hear shuffling on the carpet and then the door opens. She wipes her cheeks before letting me inside her room. No shock is evident on her face, and no smile is fighting to break free. What the fuck is wrong here?

I almost turn around and walk the other way, because I feel like I just interrupted her alone time, but then realize that she welcomed me inside by moving out of my way.

I look around her light pink room. Her white curtains are pulled shut, and her bed is messy. Not that I'm complaining. Mess wise, this is basically my room.

On her floor she has a couple shirts and jeans, and a bra close to her open closet. In her closet she has her dresser, and the drawers are open with clothes overflowing from the top. "I'm sorry. It's not usually this messy. Let me fix this."

She stumbles to pick up her dirty clothes and throws them into the hamper across the room. She gathers up some papers. They look like some sort of medical records or some shit and crumple them up and throw them into her desk drawer. I try my hardest not to look at her confusingly. She wouldn't know why I'm confused. The last time I saw her, she was happy and didn't have a care in the world. Now...

"Sorry I didn't come down. I was listening to music and drawing." She brings me out of my thoughts, thankfully.

"It's fine. What were you drawing?" I ask, restraining myself from saying 'I didn't want to come up here but your dad kind of forced me.' I oddly feel the need to be nice to this girl. Almost comfort her in a way.

She shrugs, "Oh, just some ideas for my friend, Harry's comic. He wrote some superhero comic book, and I'm doing the art." Her eyes light up slightly, and I'm relieved that she at least still has some sort of passion.

"That's awesome. Can I see?" I ask, stepping closer and she nods, walking over and sitting on her bed.

She reaches down, pulling out a box and placing the lid on her nightstand. "He calls him Mr. Man." She giggles, "don't ask me where he got the idea."

Before It Ends • Hessa • Emery Scott Where stories live. Discover now