For a moment, I wonder if her stalker is the one who might have done it, but I see Lilia storm toward Naomi and suddenly the answer becomes clear as day.
I’ve known for a while that Adeline has never been treated well by her sisters—never remotely respected in that house.
But I digress, not all families are built for love. Some are just prisons with windows.
I know because I’d seen it amidst my old habit of following her a few years ago. I told myself I only stopped because I grew tragically bored of the same old routine, but in truth, it probably had more to do with the frustration she and her family set alight in me.
I wouldn’t be able to think straight for days, and even my inventions turned painfully mediocre after that. That was my breaking point. And the day I decided she wasn’t worth the brain malfunctions she induced.
Or the stack of snapped pencils.
Naturally, I came to know Adeline quite well through all this. That’s how I know Adeline won’t leave that house, not unless she’s forced to. She’s too selfless for that, and way too tangled up in what others think of her. So much, it’s infuriating to watch.
It’s the kind of flaw that looks an awful lot like virtue. And the kind of virtue that makes her very, very useful.
She still wants their approval, even though they’ve never given her a real reason to believe she’ll get it.
But validation is desperation. And it never lasts. Sometimes no amount of praise and approval can help a person. It’s like pouring water into a cup with no bottom—it just keeps spilling out until there’s no water left.
And yet she’s still helping them. But you can’t pour water from an empty cup no matter how hard you try.
I’m guessing Naomi knows that.
Maybe she just pushed her out of anger, or maybe she pushed her simply because she can. Because she knew Adeline would never push back.
That, I think, is reason enough.
In the corner of my vision, I see Lilia finally reach Naomi. Then, without a moment of hesitation, she swings and slaps her in the face.
Naomi stumbles back, her head snapping to the side, eyes wide with shock.
“Fuck yeah!” Liam cheers.
I watch him for a moment; the way his forehead crinkles when he’s excited, the restless way he talks with his hands, and that new, peculiar habit of blinking far more than necessary.
I’d like to think I know my friends rather well—precisely, intimately, instinctively.
It’s not difficult, if you only know where to look. And I always do. That’s the advantage of keeping a few pieces close to the chest.
That’s how I also know that Christian is deathly scared of being abandoned again. How I know Liam has a frankly alarming fixation with clocks of all types; I sometimes wonder if, given enough time and isolation, he might justbecomeone. How I know Will is terribly worried for his sister.
How I know, with absolute certainty, that Liam knows more than he lets on.
Adeline
Four years ago
The caféteria is loud, louder than usual at least. There’s laughter, clinking of trays, and the occasional outburst from some guy launching a grape across the room—but none of it belongs to me. I sit alone, staring at my half-eaten sandwich like it might start talking just to fill the silence.
Wow, it’s embarrassing even saying that in my head.
It’s not that Imindbeing alone. It’s just that sitting at an entirely empty table makes it obvious. If there were at least a few people around, I could pretend. Pretend I was waiting for someone, pretend Ichosethis.
Maybe I should be grateful though. No judgemental stares, or whispered insults… it’s what I always wanted.
Iamgrateful.
But is it wrong that I still feel jealous of them?
