Page 28 of Spiral
I push my way back through the crowd, eyeing the stairwell located near the front door and ignoring my racing thoughts about all of the girls here, who are unmistakably hotter than I am right now.
I take the steps upstairs heavily, still choking back tears, and find myself in a quiet hallway. The pulsing music has dulled to a low hum, with the only noticeable sounds being periodic bouts of laughter from one of the drunken sorority girls downstairs. I step quietly, as if I’m afraid someone will hear me.
I shouldn’t be here. Go back to Eleanor’s place – don’t do something you’ll regret, Georgia… just leave it. Ugh, I know I can’t.
I knock on the door, quickly and gently, as if it were hot to the touch.
Why did I do that?
“Henry,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “Open the door.”
No answer.
I press my ear against the painted wood, listening for signs of movement, but hear nothing. Hesitantly, I grab the doorknob and slowly turn, allowing the warm light from the hall to immediately flood the small room.
Henry lifts his head from the desk hurriedly, immediately raising his palms to wipe tears from his cheeks. His eyes are swollen, their red hue visible even in the darkened room. His overgrown hair is messy, unkempt, with soft tendrils falling across his forehead, so boyish and gentle-looking.
“Georgia, I– what are you doing here?” he asks, a confused expression painted across his features.
You’re angry, Georgia. Tell him how angry you are.
“Why did you do it?” I hiss, my tone sharp as a dagger.
He looks at me, incredulous. “Do what?”
His tone is different than ever before – darker. More hurt.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Henry?!” I cry, allowing the tears to flow freely down my cheeks. “You attack my boyfriend and then pawn me off to Eleanor. And you knew!”
His lip begins to quiver and he swallows hard, preventing further tears.
“What did I know, Georgia?” He stands up, his broad figure swiftly towering over me. “Tell me what I knew.”
His tone is low and unrelenting, devoid of any of his usual cheerfulness.
“You knew this morning – and you didn’t tell me.” My voice breaks as I speak and I roll my eyes in frustration.
I sound pathetic.
“Georgia, you hate me–” he starts, and my breath catches.
Is he right? I don’t know anymore.
“–I couldn’t be the one to tell you what happened. I figured you’d be more comfortable with your best friend…”
“You punched him!” I interject, my voice growing louder.
I wait for him to yell back, to storm my direction and grab my still-bruised wrists, to seethe in anger.
“To protect you,” he whispers as his jaw tightens, looking into my eyes with such tenderness that the pounding of my heart momentarily goes silent.
If he can hurt Patrick, he can hurt me.
“I don’t need to be protected, Henry – especially not by you.”
19 | Henry
THE ROOM IS quiet and dark without her. I rake my hands through the front of my hair, releasing a low guttural growl of frustration.