Subject Me To Love [Book Two]

Chapter Thirty-Three

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Chapter 33– It's just not a good idea:

        There's something oddly peaceful about staring out into the water on a cold night, the rest of the world seeming quiet for just a few blissful moments of silence. There's a calmness in the air you never quiet take notice of at first; but when you finally do, you wonder why you'd never paid it as much attention as before.

        The wind blows harshly through the night and raindrops fall into the water, breaking the consistent flow of its surface. The blades of grass at the side of the riverbank sway gently beside me, tickling the skin of my exposed legs, running against the scars that lay beneath the ink of my tattoo's.

        The air smells of fresh rain and wet soil, not a combination that sounds as pleasant as it actually is. I like it. It's fresh in a way that the centre of Raven Hollow isn't, and a little lighter; not as suffocating.

        But maybe that's just me.

       "It's not."

        Nine sits cross-legged next to me, her expression much more dull and lifeless than usual, her tone sullen. I don't bother to ask what's wrong, seeing as it can't be anything personal; I would know about it. She stares out into the faraway lights of the city, her eyes void and attention elsewhere.

        We sit in a peaceful silence for a while longer, my breaths coming out visibly as steam while the air around Nine is clear— obviously. Dead people don't breathe.

        After a few more minutes of rare tranquillity, I finally get up and wipe my hands down the front of my jeans, getting ready to leave. I don't ask Nine if she's coming because she has to; she goes wherever I go.

        I slowly walk up the hill by the river, in no rush to get back. My boots are coated with mud and a few blades of grass stick to the leather. I pass by the spot Lilah's body lay a few weeks ago and ignore the way my body tenses at the memory of being consumed by the lake.

"I know you're scared of the water."

Lilah's voice rings in my ears like an annoying song stuck in my head. I still don't understand how she knows of my dislike (not fear) towards water. It's not something I voice out loud... ever. No one needs to know that small, irrelevant piece of information about me; it's nobody's business.

"I know you're scared of water," Nine remarks as she straps herself into the passenger seat of my car. It takes a couple of quick blinks and a head shake to realise my mind is playing tricks on me and she's not actually secured into my car with the seatbelt.

"Not scared," I grunt out, tearing my eyes away from her and pulling off from the side of the road where I had left my car. The roads aren't exactly busy today due to the crappy weather and freezing temperature.

"You're scared, Harlow. You don't even take baths."

"Why are you concerned about the way I wash myself?" I retort with a roll of my eyes.

"You know what I'm getting at."

"I prefer showers," I reply honestly, unsure as to why I'm entertaining this conversation; why I entertain any conversation with anyone, especially a dead figment of my imagination.

"Because you don't like that the bath reaches past your ankles."

I hate the way she speaks so matter-of-fact, like she's so sure she's right when she's not.