CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Staring at a door for hours can really change someone as a person. It kind of makes people over think about stupid things and wonder about stupid things like college boys and girls that wear hippie clothes. Especially ones that said they were going out for lunch hours ago and haven’t come back yet.
Actually standing up and opening the door of the closet sounds like a good idea, but sitting down and staring at it sounds better. The closet doesn’t really remind me of Harry, it kind of reminds of the five years I sat in here thinking the worst thing that could possibly happen to me would be a stupid college kid walking out. Little did I know that the actual worst thing was falling in love with one of them.
What really sucks is that the only other time I’ve been in love with someone I had trust issues and, well, died because of it. Or, maybe I died because I trusted too much?
Actually, the thing that really sucks is that I trust Harry a whole lot and yet he just walks out. He walks out even when he knows that the person that I hate most is dating—marrying—his sister and I’m pretty much forced to see him every other day.
I haven’t heard anything for the past couple of hours, so the opening of a door seems weird. Luckily it’s not the closet door, because I don’t remember getting up.
Which must mean it’s the front door. I can’t decide who it is though. It’s probably Harry, but it could also be Elizabeth, or maybe Alfie and I can’t really decide which one is the worst to see at the moment.
If it’s Harry, he’ll know exactly where I’m hiding because he’s Harry and I’d get too overwhelmed with the fact that he remembered something about me and forget about all the horrible things he did. Or maybe I’d cry and he’d comfort me and I’d forget all about it because his attention is finally back on me and not Eliza-bitch.
Or maybe if it’s said bitch, I’ll spring out of the closet and probably scare the life out of her. And if that doesn’t kill her, maybe I’ll just do it an easier way. But, then again, I don’t know how possible it is for someone that’s already dead to kill someone that’s not dead.
And if it’s Alfie, I’ll probably cry and scream at him because the only other thing I’ve thought about for the last few hours beside Harry is Alfie and all the things I should say to him. Which will probably not end well.
At least if it’s Alfie or Elizabeth they won’t find me, or I won’t ever know because I’d have to stand up and open the closet door which I have no plans of doing.
Elizabeth and Alfie probably wouldn’t be making excessively loud footsteps and be saying, “Vi?” in a soft, almost whimpering voice, either.
I just keep staring at the door, half-hoping he’ll open it, and half-hoping he won’t. I don’t know what to think or feel right now, actually. It’s not fair that Harry can just do whatever he wants and not even be affected and I have to stay in this flat and be affected by everything he does.
“Vi? Babe, where are you?” I hear again and it’s louder this time. I should probably hide, maybe snap my fingers, pretend to be asleep again but the only thing I can do is sit still and stare at the door, which is very unfortunate.
Harry seems to make a chocked off noise right as the handle of the door turns. I close my eyes as it opens fully and don’t see Harry for a few seconds. Which is very unfortunate, so I open them very slowly and look up at Harry who looks a little stressed and very sad.
I don’t know what to say, and I also don’t want to say anything to him because I’m mad. At him. Yes.
“Oh, Violet.” He says, crouching down to meet me at eye level. His hair looks a little disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it. Or maybe Elizabeth had.
