I have finally succeeded in creating another chapter! Maybe I'm on a roll...maybe not...but it's looking good so far :)
This chapter is pretty short, just wanted to give a little update on Mori's situation.
Let me know what you think! I sometimes pull ideas from the reviews :o
Thank you guys so much for reading!
Enjoy !
Date and Time: August 11th, 7:00 PM
POV: Mori
One, two, three, four, five.
I hit the punching bag over and over again, counting in my head to distract myself from thinking about it.
One, two, three, four, five.
About her.
One, two, three, four, five.
Haruhi's look of pity as I confessed my love to her.
Because she loved Kyoya.
It will always be Kyoya.
One, two, three, four, five.
But, it was better that way, wasn't it?
After what I did to her...
I can't stop the images from flooding my mind.
I shake my head. I don't want to think of it.
I hit the bag harder.
One, two, three, four five.
I hated myself.
"Master Takashi..."
I turn to face the maid. She was in charge of the upkeep of this Okinawan summer home.
"Yes?" I respond, fists still clenched, ready to throw the next punch.
"Dinner is ready. Will you be eating today?"
"No, let the staff have it. If you don't mind, please just grab me another box of the protein bars..."
"Master Takashi." she interrupted.
"And another case of water, if you will,"
"Master Takashi, this is not healthy behavior. You have been locked inside this place all week long. Have you even slept?"
I think back to the restless nights, tossing on the futon, waking in cold sweats because of the nightmares.
"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern,"
"When will you be going back to school?"
I hesitate. I didn't know the answer to her question, only that I did not want to return. Would my father allow me to transfer schools?
"I will eat your dinner today, if it will calm your nerves," I said, smiling gently.
The maid gives me a small smile back. "It will be in the dining hall."
She leaves, and I am alone with my thoughts once again.
I look down at my hands. The knuckles were red, and bruised, the skin splitting where it had made frequent contact. My palms also sustained injuries from my fingernails digging into them.
I clenched my fists again, and shouted as I punched the bag again.
I wanted to disappear. I needed to disappear.
One, two, three, four, five.
But I loved her.
God. I loved her.