A/N: Sorry for my disappearance. I couldn't get anything written. And the only reason I'm actually updating is because my friend GlisteningShadow is losing her internet for a few weeks, and I figured this might be a nice going away gift or something like that.
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Secrets
Chapter Five: Interrupted
...
I awaken from the sound of the doorbell. I groan and roll over, covering my head with my pillow. I'm a teen—sleep is what I do. At least while I sleep I don't c—
Ring
No.
Ring
Oh damn.
I throw off the covers and slide out of bed, shivering at the cold. I take a quick glance at the clock and it reads 10:30 am, Saturday. Jake had come home in the middle of the night, drunk, and slammed things around for a while. It had woken me up and I had a hard time getting back to sleep. So my eyes are heavy and un-rested. Thanks, Jake.
The doorbell rings again and I sigh and travel down the stairs. I throw on the deepest frown I can manage and drag the door open. What I see I don't expect.
It's Mr. Frost.
"Hello, Lillian," he says.
Oh my G—
"So I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I might pay you a visit."
What the f—
"Oh," I squeak. How the hell does he know my address?
"Can I come in?" he asks. I wince.
"Sure," I say, regretfully, and with slight pain in my voice. I open the door for him to enter, and as he passes I notice he smells like cigarettes, coffee and burnt toast.
How nice.
I crinkle my nose and close the door, shuffling behind him.
Mr. Frost manages to find a seat on the couch, but I still stand there—I don't know what else to do.
This is awkward.
"So," he breathes and crosses his legs. "How are you doing, Lilly?" I can tell he's forcing his gaze on me, and not on the mess around him.
"I'm fine."
"That's good."
"It is."
I cough.
"Well," he grunts. "I might as well tell you the real reason I came here, Lilly." He puts his hands over his right knee and I can tell he's serious. A shock goes through my system as I mentally prepare myself for the questions ahead.
Don't tell him anything.
"Okay." I realize my attire—sweats—don't fit me very well. I pull the sleeve down. They're short.
I can't risk—
"I came here because I was worried about you."
"Oh," I say, though it's no surprise to me that he's worried. He's been mentioning it everyday for the last month or so.
"Yes," he says and scratches his nose, some stuff falls off as he does.
Ew, that's so gr—
"And," he continues. "There's something else." He lowers his gaze on my wrist.
Shit.
He starts to talk, but I interrupt. "Mr Frost, I don't think my parents would approve of you being here with me... alone." I spit out the first lie that comes into my head, I can't risk him knowing. I just can't. Cutting is my thing and it helps me cope with the harsh realities of my life. I don't think I could handle everything if I didn't have it.
So I lie.
"Well." He clears his throat. "Could I talk to them?"
"Uh..." Are they even home? "They're asleep." Another lie.
"Then I'll wait until they're awake."
"I think you should just... go." I feel uneasy.
"Lilly, I'm concern—"
"Okay, you're concerned!" I shout. "But that doesn't mean that you can just come to my house over the weekend!"
I shouted at him, at Mr. Frost, at my teacher.
"I just—"
"I just want you to leave."
"Very well." He stands up, the floor crackles beneath him as he does.
He walks towards the door, and I open it for him. "Thank you for your concern," I mutter.
"You're welcome." Mr. Frost steps outside into the cold. I start to close the door behind him, but he stops it with his hand. "Lilly, wait." He gives me a piece of paper. "Give me a call if you ever need... help." He smiles at the end and I feel slightly disturbed at the context of it all.
"...Okay."
He leaves.
…
I slide the razor against my wrist as the memories fall before my eyes and the blood to the floor.
Yes.
I remember Oliver and my relief fades away. He was... my only friend. Maybe Miley too. But she's tricky... and pretty. Yeah, she's pretty, too. Miley's pretty.
But Oliver...
Well he's not pretty, but more... impatient. Why is that? Why couldn't he just... leave me alone? He doesn't understand me, or my family. Oliver's always been that way. His heart's in the right place, I suppose. Maybe I should—no.
I shouldn't.
…
"Lilly! Lilly, wait!" Miley's voice rings from behind, and she sounds particularly boisterous today. Unusual, usually. But then again... there was Friday...
"Lilly," she breathes as she catches up to me.
"Uh..." I manage.
My first instinct is to run away, but I don't trust my instincts, so I stay.
"Look," she says. "I'm sorry about the other day... I acted... strangely."
"Yeah." I avoid eye contact and kick at the snow beneath my feet.
"But... why'd you run off like that?"
I pause as I remember the events that had taken place a few days ago, on Friday. I had run to a trashcan and thrown up because Miley smelled like... like alcohol. Like scotch.
"B-because." I race through my head for an answer. "Because I did. And it's... it's none of your business why."
"L—"
"It's none of your business, Miley."
"Oh," she mutters, her curly brunette hair cascading down over her face. She looks hurt.
"...Yeah."
An awkward, yet sad silence makes an appearance. Miley stares at her feet. I stare at anything but Miley.
I cough, as I usually do, and start talking again. "I've got to get home."
"Okay," Miley says in a whisper. I feel a stab hit my stomach from the sadness in her voice.
"Alright, I'll just go..?"
She nods. "B-bye." Miley offers me a faulty smile and a quick wave and turns around and walks away in a slow, fluid motion, with her head slumped and her hands in her pockets.
She looks like me.
…
The sun shines in my eyes and I almost drop my lunch. I stumble for a while, and then find my footing. And when I look up I see that Miley's sitting alone. By herself. I suddenly feel very guilty, and my stomach sinks. She's sitting all by herself, looking all lonely and sad. On a Monday afternoon, no less. Our little confrontation was yesterday. The event plays in front of my eyes again and I mentally slap myself for how cold I was to her. She looks like she'd cry at any moment (though that's how she usually looks, anyway...) and she's looking down at her hands while chewing on her bottom lip. It's strangely cute, and I almost don't want to interrupt her to apologize, but I know I must.
So I do.
"Hey," I say as I sit down. I push her lunch tray aside, and set mine down somewhere, I don't really know where it ended up, but I don't care.
Miley lifts her head up and looks at me, her eyes go wide. I notice that she's shivering from the cold, and I almost wrap my arm around her shoulder to keep her warm. But I hold myself back.
How weird would that be?
"...Hi," she mutters and looks back down again.
"I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong..." she mumbles and plays with a string on her jacket.
"I'm sorry for being a jerk."
"I deserve it."
I frown and look at her. She's biting her lip again.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I just... do. You saw something that you weren't supposed to. That no one was supposed to. It was my fault, so I deserve the punishment."
"Punishment?"
"You running away from me, and not telling me anything."
"And how is that a punishment?" I ask, but more to myself then her.
"It just is..."
I raise my eyebrow at her, only to realize that she's hiding something. Like me.
"Miley..."
She doesn't say anything and plays with her hands again. I click my tongue to keep it from being silent and the awkwardness is so solid you could cut it with a knife.
Miley scratches at the plastic on the table with her nail and she looks at me and opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Confusion is etched on my face and I raise my eyebrow once again. She blushes and looks down again. She's so cute, I could just—wait. No, no. Lilly, what are you talking about? What are you.. thinking? You don't... you don't. Animals are cute, babies are cute. Miley's not cute, she's just pretty. It's normal to think she's pretty, right? Of course it—
"Do you..." she starts, and my thoughts rush out of my head, I'm hanging onto her words.
"Do I...what?"
"Do you want to come over... today? To my house."
A smile breaks out on my face and I say the obvious answer.
"Yes."
A/N: I don't know about this. Please review and reassure me?
