Chapter 007
1313 Words
Chapter 007
Emilia’s POV
I gazed up at the ceiling.
There are one, two, three, and four plaster cracks.
Despite my internal turmoil, the external storm remained unaffected. As if my thoughts would never stop returning to him, they just kept crashing and reverberating through my bones.
Niklas Becker.
What made me believe that he could pick me?
With a tight throat and a racing heart, I kicked off my blanket. My skin was simultaneously too hot and too cold. I felt as though something was trying to escape from inside of me. After sitting up, I dragged myself to the desk. I felt as though my fingers were moving on their own. I had to get it out.
Everything.
The pen scraped the paper. Words poured out in ugly black ink. I didn't care if the letters were smudged or the lines were jagged. Neatness wasn't the goal. The task was not for anyone.
It was for me.
"Before I even understood what love meant, I loved you."
My hand went cold.
The storm was not as loud as the silence in my room. In my ears, my pulse thundered.
"And you... you only ever gave me a look when it was painful. I was there for you when you needed to let go. I was simply there when you wanted to feel something."
I closed my eyes tightly. Take a breath. Breathe in and out.
However, it was ineffective.
Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating my room with a glaring white glow. Everything appeared strange for a moment. The dark window reflected my face, my shelves, and my walls.
It felt as if I no longer belonged here.
"You made me believe I mattered. You convinced me that I was more than just Jonas's younger sister. It was as if I were poison; you kept drawing me in and then pushing me away.
Why did I still cry?
Microscopic saltwater stains soaked the page as the silent tears fell. One by one, they slipped past my cheeks, as though, despite my best efforts to forget, my body had learnt from the heartbreak.
I wrote down the truth that I was afraid to speak out loud.
I enjoyed the sensation of sitting beside him on the couch while pretending that my heart wasn't hammering my ribs.
Every time he leaned into another girl with that same crooked smile he used to give me, it broke my heart.
How I despised him for shattering me.
and felt even more guilty for continuing to want him to come get them.
By the time I finished, my hand hurt. My chest felt as though I had just finished a long run. The letter felt like both a scream and a confession. I didn't want to share it.
I folded it in half. Then, I stuffed it beneath a pile of notebooks I never opened anymore. Stuffed it beneath a pile of notebooks I never opened anymore. I shoved them in the back of my drawer, like the other emotions I couldn't shake.
Behind me, the floor creaked.
I spun around, heart leaping to my throat.
Nothing.
The house is filled with only shadows and furnishings. The house is settling.
Or perhaps I was guilty.
Too wired to sleep and too exhausted to cry, I crawled into bed. I couldn't stop thinking about how his voice used to sound when he called my name. He once threw his warm hoodie over my shoulders as if it had significance.
It didn't.
I made myself go out with Lena the following day. I chuckled at foolish things. I gave strangers a smile. I even applied lipstick. Although it didn't fit with how I was feeling, it gave me a sense of control.
When I got home, I leaned against the door and closed it.
secure.
Or so I believed.
I entered my room after throwing my keys on the counter.
The atmosphere changed.
Before I even turned around, I sensed it.
I can feel the tingle at the nape of my neck.
that gut feeling.
There was a problem.
Slowly, I turned and froze.
Niklas.
He was standing in the centre of my space. The storm had soaked his hair, his hoodie, and the hem of his jeans. Drops of rain fell to the ground. He had a piece of paper in his hand.
My letter.
My entire world swayed.
"Where did you get that?"
He didn't look away from me. "It was beneath your notebooks."
A painful squeeze went through my chest. "That wasn't meant for you to see..
"I didn't intend to." He paused. "I was returning your copy of Stranger. I had it in my car. I wasn't spying.
Like a feeble peace offering, he held up the book.
I laughed, but it sounded sour. "Well, congratulations. You know now.
He clenched his jaw. "Emilia—"
"No. I retreated, my voice shaking, and yelled, "You don't get to say my name like that." "Not after everything." Not after you made me feel insignificant"
"You are not nothing."
"So, what am I to you?"
The ensuing silence broke something inside of me.
I stared at him, his eyes unreadable, and my throat burnt.
"Exactly," I muttered. "I thought the same thing."
"It's not that easy."
"It's never with you, is it?" I inhaled nervously. "When someone else enters the room, you pull me in close and then act as though I don't exist."
He opened his mouth as if to argue. However, he remained silent.
I took another step back. I balled my hands into fists. "Avoid it."
He didn't pay attention.
He moved forward.
He whispered, "I never wanted to hurt you."
However, you did. Once more. Once again, I reiterate my request. And I gave you permission. I put my arms around myself as if they would keep me together.
"You think this assignment was easy for me?"
"I don't care if it was easy." My voice broke. "Knowing you wouldn't catch me, I was hurt that you let me fall."
His jaw tightened as he looked down.
Then he folded the letter slowly.
consciously.
With caution.
He questioned, "You meant all of this?"
I gave a nod. "Every word."
"Even the statement that you detested me?"
Through tears, I blinked. "That part in particular."
His lips formed a sour smile. "All right. I'm worthy of it.
Something in my chest twisted as he turned, seemingly ready to go. I nearly wanted to give him another call.
However, I didn't.
He stopped at the door.
"I lack the right words to rectify this situation."
I said softly, "Then perhaps don't say anything." "Just leave."
He held the doorknob in his hand. White-knuckled.
"I should have read one fewer line," he admitted. "You mentioned that you never felt seen by anyone," aside from me.
I went cold.
His next words shattered the last bits of my shield.
"Emilia, I see you. Always had. That is the issue. I'm afraid of you.
Then he went away.
The door closed with a click.
And I fell down on the bed.
Tears soaked the pillow. My shoulders trembled until my breathing became difficult.
The storm had passed outside, but it was just beginning inside of me.
Once more, I gazed at the ceiling.
There are cracks in levels one, two, three, and four.
Then there was a buzz.
Beside me, my phone came to life.
Niklas has one new message:
"I believe I'm prepared to give up running. When are you available tomorrow?
My heart pounded as I gazed at it.
Over the screen, fingers lingered.
Would I be able to trust him again?
Would he come this time?
Or was this incident just one more "maybe" in a long string of "almosts"?
Was this the time I had been waiting for?
Is this the beginning of something worse?
- Writer
