These Violent Delights

Chapter Three:

Being back in my childhood room makes me want to both weep and smile. Everything is as I left it. A bookcase full of Bratz and Pirates of the Caribbean stickers that I randomly stuck all over the side. All my Narnia and Harry Potter novels are loosely stuffed on the shelf, their covers wearing down with time. My old TV on top of my white wicker room set that I've had since a baby. Even the wallpaper is the same. Different breeds of dogs are sitting around having a tea party, all wearing various types of hats.

I used to stare at the wallpaper as a young girl before falling asleep at night, picking out which dog was my favorite, and playing out tea party scenarios in my head. What they were talking about, what type of tea they were drinking, and the world they lived in, where dogs wore fancy hats and sipped tea with their pinkies up.

This morning, I was woken up by the loud sounds of Gray moving about the house before school, followed by her loudly disagreeing with our father about something. It grew quiet after the front door slammed shut and her car backed out of the driveway. I've missed the loud chaos of living at home with my sisters. Always so much going on. Mom always called us her Little Women, just as in the Lousia May Alcott novel. Comparing Grove to Meg, Gray to Jo, and myself as a mix of Beth and Amy.

There's a slight knock on the door, followed by Dad peeping his head in. "You up?" He asks.

I nod, sitting up on my elbows. "Yes, just appreciating being back in my old room."

He smiles softly. "It makes me happy to see you back in here. Did we wake you earlier?"

"Sort of," I tell him. "What was Gray upset about?"
"Oh, this and that." He shrugs his shoulders. "Who knows? Everything I say lately seems to make her blow up." He moves into my room, eyes scanning, before he comes over and sits at the end of my bed, patting where my legs are under the covers. "How are you feeling today?"

"Sad still, but better." I rub the sleep from my eyes, then run my hands down my face. "The thought of going on first dates again and potentially getting heartbroken all over again is terrifying. Maybe I should just become a workaholic and have a bunch of cute dogs. Dogs will never break your heart."

He smiles at me. "This is your first heartbreak. I hope it's your last. Don't let one person scare you away from love. The right person is out there, waiting for you. Enjoy this season of your life. Be proud of yourself. You're nearly done with your second year of college."

When he leaves my room, I force myself to get up and get ready for class. My brain is in a heavy fog. Even with the shower, it's hard to pull myself out of it. Since seeing Wynn at the apartment, he's sent me a handful of texts. First apologizing, saying he misses me, then late at night, clearly while intoxicated, sending me hurtful messages along the lines of how I'm a bitch for leaving, that I'm being unreasonable and holding a grudge, followed by the next morning sending me more apologies and blaming the mean texts on the alcohol.

Sometimes I wonder if I am being unreasonable.

People cheat all the time. I think most people are more disloyal now than loyal. Wynn was never cruel to me. He had a temper at times, yes, but I was content with him. Our arguments were always brief. We moved on quickly from them.

The weather outside is still unpleasant. Windy with muddy snow from the rain yesterday. My dad tells me to drive carefully on the slippery roads as I step out the door. Hair slipping out of my bun and whipping around my fast. When I reach the college, it's begun raining again. Sleek ice on the sidewalk, and I watch as two girls slip on it, falling to their butts and laughing on the ground about it.