"Dammit woman, talk to me," Zach pulls at his hair in frustration; his eyes never leave my face. There is a hint of sadness in his voice but other than that, he sounds cynically mad.
I shake my head no, with my gaze still on the floor. Suddenly, he...
An early update because I really couldn't control myself ;)
Inline comments, please! Zach would love to know what y'all are thinking.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.
Chapter Sixteen
.
Z A C H
My heart warms at Ella's gesture. I lay on the bed and wait for her. Sneezing every once in a while, I find myself smelling Ella's pillow.
I feel like a creep.
But she smells like heaven. Her fruity smell was impossible to forget, even after all those years. I was addicted to her smell, scratch that. I was addicted to her. If she were a drug, there wouldn't be a sober vein on my body.
But she broke me. And, I was determined to do the same.
But how could I? Everything about her was angelic, her face, her voice, her eyes, her heart. I just... can't.
I can't.
The concern in her eyes, that was something that can never be faked.
Then, why?
My eyes fall on the blue velvet-covered diary on the nightstand. I remember buying it for her but I don't remember when I gave it. I just hope I hadn't said something stupid. I tend to do that when I'm drunk.
My hands itch to grab it and read. I want to know what goes on that pretty little head of hers. She's so reserved and guarded, I can never assume what she is thinking.
I fight against my self. I wouldn't do that, it's unethical. I know I should respect her personal space. I shouldn't be invading her privacy.
But that little voice on my mind, it doesn't seem to stop. I'll just look thoroughly, it wouldn't hurt, right? I'll just see what she thinks about me, that is if she has written about me.
I want to know why she left me. And I know she won't ever say it herself.
The diary might have some of the answers to all my unanswered questions.
More importantly, I want to know about all those scars. I want to know who did that to her. I couldn't stop thinking about all the painful ways of murdering the person who would do that to her.
So battling against my conscience, I grab it and turn it open. My eyes widen when I see my name on the very first page. I'm not able to stop myself after that.
Page after page, the rage inside me only increases. I grit my teeth, my jaws are clenched and I fist the diary so tightly that my knuckles turn white and the little thing crumples under my fingers.
And on cue, the door opens.
I don't look at her, I am way too enraged to face her. I might harm her instead, or scare her. So, I throw the crumpled diary, push Ella away from the door and walk outside my room to clear my mind.
