My chest aches, but I pick it up and face the wardrobe again. Without giving myself time to change my mind, I extend my arm towards the top shelf.
“Come on,” I huff under my breath, my arm not quite reaching far enough. I lift onto my toes, wincing at the pain in my ankle, but it gives me just enough reach to be able to tuck my journal into the folds of the blanket before I lose the strength to hold myself up.
Closing the door on my little black secret, I push the chair back into position and collapse onto the large cushion for a moment.
Grasping my calf, I gently roll my strapped ankle as much as the tape will allow. The pain has subsided somewhat since the first day, but it’s still quite tender.
Pushing up from the chair, I make my way to my backpack stashed under the bed, but I can’t help but look back to the wardrobe. The ache in my chest strengthens, and I swallow hard.
Not wanting to think about what I’ve hidden inside, I focus on the patterns of the panels, or rather,doors. It’s a strange concept, but I have to admit, it is aesthetically pleasing.
Returning to my bag, I undo the zip and carefully pull out my camera before sitting on the bed. Without even turning it on again, I know that it’s broken beyond use. The shattered lens is enough to tell me that. Unfortunately, even if only the lens needed replacing, I don’t have the money for it. Although, I have a sinking feeling it won’t be a simple fix.
I run my fingers over the surface until I find the small compartment on the side. I flick it open, but just like last night, it’s empty.
Another piece gone.
How many more pieces can I lose?
I’m thankful Sebastian returned it to me nonetheless. Did I really expect him to hand it back still loaded completely with pictures of him?
Honestly, I didn’t expect him to return it to me at all, and I’m still not sure why he did.
After I place the camera on the bed beside me, I reach into the backpack and feel around until I find the few photos I stashed in there when I left my apartment. I pull them out, but with the haste of being shoved in the bag amongst everything, most are bent or folded, and some are even torn.
Picking out the top one, I try to smooth the creases out as much as I can and touch my fingers to the surface, slowly tracing the lines of Sebastian’s face. I can almost imagine he’s here in front of me, my fingers running along his smooth cheeks and stubbled jaw.
Memories from last night try to consume me, and I wish I had touched him like this, so I knew whether it felt as comforting as I imagined. I remove my hand from the photograph, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.
I should never have done what I did.
What was I thinking?
So they are no longer lying loose in my bag, I zip the photos into one of the bag’s inner pockets. I can’t keep doing this if I want to make it through being here.
No more photos.
No more journaling.
No more kissing.
With the only thing left on the list to address being the last one, I don’t feel like I need to worry. There’s no way it will happen again. Not only does Sebastian want nothing to do with me, I’ve already made a fool out of myself once, and no matter how good it felt, it won’t happen again.
“He kissed you back,”a voice tries to whisper to me.
But even though it might be true, I can only imagine how much he’s regretting it now, especially with how fast he ran off last night.
Even after a shower, my eyes still feel heavy with a lack of sleep. The soft material of the robe I’d found hanging in the wardrobe earlier comes down to my ankles, and the sleeves, which were far too long, sit folded over my wrists.
Reluctantly, I untie the belt around my waist and slip the robe off. A shiver runs through me as the air hits my bare body, but I waste no time putting on my fresh underwear and bra with my now clean jeans and a t-shirt, the material still warm from the dryer, taking the edge off the chill.
Not being able to bear another day of unclean clothes, I’d gone searching through the penthouse for a laundry orsomethingI could use to wash my clothes, even if it was a bucket and some detergent. It had only taken four doors until I found what I was looking for.
One of which had revealed Sebastian’s room. It was ostentatious, but I knew it was his. It carried the same floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to run throughout the penthouse, and whilst it was as cold and impersonal as every other room, it had a distinctly masculine style.
A calming sense fills me at finally wearing fresh clothes. They hadn’t been horrible, but like with everything else, money was spent sparingly, so it had been a little while since I’d taken them to the laundry down the street from my apartment. My gaze falls to my ankle and to the tape that’s looking worse for wear. The doctor had said I should change the tape in a few days, but the edges are already starting to fray and peel in places, plus my skin was getting itchy from the adhesive. The mishap with the coffee spill definitely didn’t help anything.
Gathering the supplies the doctor gave me into my arms, I carry them to the lounge and drop them on the couch. Shadow follows behind me and sniffs the strange items before plonking himself on the ground nearby. Unlike when I first met the German Shepherd two days ago, his presence is almost comforting, and I’m starting to become used to him being around me.