Evanna Austen a freshman in college, starts out her journey with her friends. After successfully passed out her freshman year she was ready to began her second year more than ever, with the friends she loved. Everything was going fine until her unco...
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The scene in front of me isn't what I was expecting. In fact I don't even think anything like this would happen in a span of ten to fifteen minutes or so. I meet with an eerie silence as I walk to his door but when I open it. The scene unfolds in front of me. I meet with a vase that is shattered to pieces; welcoming my steps. Lamps that should be on the nightstand are littering in pieces all over his floor. The desk things lying on the floor, papers, pens, books. The table near the couch is flipped off, the contents of it lying on the side of the couch. The painting on the wall is on the floor too. Capturing the disaster with my eyes, I look for the person who did it. In between the whole upside down room, Liam is sitting on the edge of his bed, his side profile visible to me.
My eyes roam on his body, noticing how fast he is breathing. His chest dramatically rises and falls. His shoulders are shaking as if he is in anger or controlling it. The veins on his neck are visible, peeking out dangerously. His whole body is so hard, the muscles are strained. His toned arms flex as he raises them and rubs his palms frequently over his face. Repeating the process many times. His hairs are as usual falling down due to his position and he makes no attempt to push it. He let out a groan before kicking the bed with his back foot. He clench and unclench his fist, tearing the injuries around his knuckles. I cringe. His fingers go around his eyes before he swipes them up to remove his hairs. I was standing at the doorway for five minutes observing him yet he didn't know about my presence.
I walk a little more inside, keeping my eyes on the floor. For the first time I feel like I shouldn't have opened my shoes in the hall. I wipe my own tears just as Liam rubs his face harshly. He leans over, his face pulling upwards. The blood pumping makes his face look red. He fiddles with the drawer, trying to find something. I see a pack of cigarettes in his hand as he whipped out from the drawer. My lips instantly turn into a thin line. Hastily opening it, he puts one in his mouth looking for lighter I assume until his eyes meet mine. His red bloodshot eyes, filled with surprise. His face forming a shock expression, his mouth parting resulting in the cigarette to fall from his mouth. He stares at me without moving any muscle. I know he is breathing but his body looks like he isn't. Several minutes pass and no one says anything so I decide to break the silence.
“I thought you were going to change.” I look everywhere in his room to emphasize what I mean. I walk a little further since he is staring at me like I am not real. He isn't even blinking.
“Apparently your change is nowhere to be seen. This is the same old mess.” I am not angry. I am just upset that he let the anger overpowered him.
“You're here?” he asks in his befuddled state.
“I am standing here, talking to you. What do you think?” I didn't mean it sarcastically as I say. I go closer, looking down at his now bloodied knuckles. Not again.
“Yo–you left.”
“I never left.”
“Why? You were going to. What are you doing here now?” His tone is harsh.
