Counting Footsteps

{Chapter 1}

“Emerson, would you hurry up?” Carter screams, dramatically banging her fists against the locked door.  The sound echoes through the paper-thin walls, only adding on to my already present and pounding headache.  Not to mention, she’s probably managed to annoy the entire fourteenth floor of this hotel.  My breathing is muffled by the pillow that my is face buried in at the moment.  The down comforter on the surprisingly luxurious bed conforms to the shape of my body since I’m sunken into it. 

“I’m not going,” I moan into the expensive, now tear-stained pillow.  The salt water droplets dried on my face make my cheeks feel stiff as the words escape my mouth.  My feet hang off the edge of the bed carelessly, my sweatpants loosely hung around them.  I can feel strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and am tempted to lift my head from the pillow and fix it, but it feels as though the heaviness of my heart is holding me down.  

“Em.  I’m not letting you sit in this lame hotel crying into your pillow for five hours straight.  You need to get over Luke and go have some fun,” she says sounding irritated.  Typical Carter, always moving on from someone before getting the chance to even miss them.  

“Carter, go by yourself if you want.  I’m not joking,” I say assertively, finally picking my head up from the pillow only to let it fall back down again.  I know she has good intentions, but this time she’s finally getting on my last nerve.  She doesn’t respond and for a minute, and for a split second I think she’s hurt by my attitude.  Then I remember exactly who I’m talking to.  The girl who can be completely opposite from me; the girl who’s been abandoned, dumped, and rejected a thousand times and lives to tell the tale; the girl I’ve been best friends with since I was five, Carter Lawrence.  She couldn’t possibly be hurt by my attitude.  

“Fine.  At least let me in so I can get ready,” she says, finally settling.  I drag myself off the bed and stand up, the blood from my head rushing down and making me dizzy.  I hold a hand to my head to steady myself, dizzy from the gallon of saltwater that probably fell from my eyes in these past few hours.  I twist the shiny gold handle on the door, slowly swinging  it open.  Carter’s bright blue-green eyes scan me from top to bottom before she lifts an eyebrow in pity.  “Geez, Emerson Miranda Kelly,” she starts, using my full name just to add to the drama, “he’s just a boy.  Do you know how many break ups I’ve been through?  I’m still smiling.  If Luke was ‘the one,’ he obviously wouldn’t have broken up with you in the first place.  He doesn’t even deserve you if he thinks that Diana Sommers ‘understands him more.’  Seriously Em, get over that idiot.”  Carter reached for the tissue box on the side table next to us, pulling out a tissue.  She reached forward to dab my eyes, which had started to well up with tears again, and ended up just pulling me into a hug.  The tears fell faster and faster now, blurring my vision once again as I completely let go of all self control.  

Carter had apparently surrendered on trying to talk me out of my misery.  She’d ended up just holding me tight and letting me cry until I couldn’t anymore.  Almost five minutes passed before I was all dried out.  I’d cried in the car, I’d cried in the lobby, I’d cried in the elevator, I’d cried in the room, I’d cried in Carter’s arms and I just couldn’t do it anymore.  We separated and she held tightly on to my arms, looking me directly in the eye.  

“Now that you’re done, go take a nice long shower and get cleaned up,” she said in a very contradictory stern, but soothing voice.  I was tired of everything, including arguing, so obeyed, dragging my feet and hanging my head similar to a zombie.  I shut the bathroom door behind me, dimming the lights, and turning on the shower.  I waited a while before getting in, holding out till the bathroom was completely engulfed in a thick layer of steam.  I slid open the glass doors, climbing in.