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Distance

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Chapter 11: Distance (London's POV)

I shifted in my sleep feeling nothing but restless and discomfort. I kicked the covers off and opened my eyes. I stared ahead, where I was so sure Ronan was sitting a while ago. I groaned, going to rub my eyes, and realized my cheeks were damp with tears. 

Had I been crying in my sleep? Because of the dream? 

I rolled onto my back, glancing down at the ice pack on my ankle. I checked my phone for the time. It's only two-thirty in the middle of the night. I sighed and sat up, taking the ice pack off and leaving it on my nightstand for the time being. I turned on my lamp, noticing immediately that the bracelet was missing. "Huh," I mumbled to myself, checking the drawer and everything. 

Where did I put it? 

I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, stretching my foot before standing up. It didn't hurt as much anymore, it was enough to walk on and tolerate. I flicked the bathroom light on, squinting under it as I went to tie my hair in a ponytail, feeling the bracelet on my wrist. I looked down at it, tracing a finger over the crystal. I used the bathroom and then went back out, crawling into bed, turning the lamp off. 

I flipped my pillow over to the cool side and started thinking about the dream that essentially woke me up. I had woken up and while I tried to go back to sleep, I couldn't stop replaying it in my head over and over again. That night. That goddamn cursed night. 

He left me that night, he left Runville that night. He said some of the worst things anyone has ever said to me and he completely broke my heart. 

How could I move past that so easily? Tonight was a mistake, it was a moment of weakness and I can't let it happen again. I should have known from the minute he grabbed my wrist and made me sit with him as he signed those books. He had made too much progress in one night. I can't let him back in again. Distance is my safest bet. Distance between us is what I need right now. So I won't break again, so he won't be able to break me again. Game or no game, we need to understand what we're really doing here. 

I don't know if he's trying to hurt me more or if he's trying to get me back, all he's doing is confusing me. And that somehow hurts me too because some memories, you just can't let go of. Some things you just can't move past. Some things you just can't forgive. 

I rolled back onto my side, turning the lamp on and dragging a hand down my face in frustration. I scooted to the other side of the bed and grabbed my desk chair, pulling it closer and digging out his book. I pushed the chair away and moved back to my side, sitting against the headboard as I stared down at the cover before opening the first page. The dedication page. And I felt my heart completely stop. 

"For the only girl I've ever loved, the only person who showed me what love felt like, the only one whose heart I broke, with my own."

I slammed the book shut, taking a few breaths. I need to stop doing this and get him out of my head. It sounds like a good book, that's the only reason I'm reading it. I should forget who it's written by and who it's dedicated to. I'm only here for the book's plot. I opened it to the first page and started reading. 

As my eyes moved from one word to the other, from one page to the next, from one chapter to the one after that, I saw the similarities between Atlas and Ronan. The similarities between Atlas and the last version I saw of Ronan. 

At first, Atlas seemed selfish, obsessive, manic, careless, and extremely cold. He didn't care who died during his mission, he was after one thing and he'd give up anything, do anything to get it. The book didn't leave me with even a sliver of doubt, it had me convinced that the worst thing I could imagine, Atlas would probably do if it meant getting revenge. 

But as the chapters went on, you could see him cracking. Once he'd done the worst thing he could imagine, the lines blurred and we saw what he was like before tragedy struck him and his family. Completely different. 

He loved his family with his whole heart, he'd give up just about anything for them, they were his whole world. That was a phrase repeated multiple times in every other chapter. 

"They were my whole world." 

My whole world, my whole world, my whole world. I was halfway through the book before sleep hit me like a wave and after the intense chapter I just read, I wanted to let the drowsiness take over. I moved to the last page of the chapter, reading it again, the last paragraph, specifically. 

"You were my family. My whole world. And they took you from me, I lost you. And I promise, even if my promises are now only words spoken to a stone that holds your graves. I promise I'll do anything for you. I can't bring any of you back. But I can fight for your justice." 

I slipped a bookmark between the pages and closed the book, leaving it beside me on the bed, too tired to move and put it anywhere else. I turned the lamp off and lay down, closing my eyes and falling asleep. It hardly made sense, but weirdly enough, a book about murder and psychological thriller felt too much like us. It related too much to us in all the strange ways. 

✦✧✦✧

"London." 

"Hmm?" I asked without looking up, too engrossed in the book. It's the next day now and I'm at work but I haven't been able to put this stupid book down even just for a second. It's getting too interesting to stop now. I have to finish it in this sitting. 

"London!" 

I looked up, sighing. "Yes, Lily?" 

"Macbeth! I need a copy," she whined, "I'm asking for the billionth time." 

"Where's Dylan?" 

"Huh? I don't know, why?" 

"Ask him." 

She groaned before calling his name and walking away. 

I leaned back in the chair and resumed reading. 

"London." 

No, no, no, no! Things were finally happening! He was finally letting her in, letting her help him! 

"London?" 

"Shh!" I hissed. 

She was going to heal and fix him! They better have their happy ending after everything they just went through. 

"Is that my book?" he chuckled. 

I froze, looking up and meeting his eyes. 

He rested his elbows on the table, smirking down at me. "Hi." 

I cleared my throat, putting the book down. "What can I do for you?" 

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'll take a look myself, keep reading," he chuckled. "Do you like it?" 

"It's good," I shrugged nonchalantly. 

"Yeah?" 

I nodded begrudgingly. 

"What do you like the most?" 

I eyed him warily. I can create distance later, whatever, but I need to talk to somebody about this book. I should probably order more copies because twenty isn't enough. People in this town love to read and whenever we get a new book, it's usually all sold out within a day or two. Half his copies are already gone. "Their relationship," I answered. 

"Thought you would. Why do you like it so much?" 

"Because they're always there for each other. She helps when he needs it and he'll do just about anything for her. They'd never betray each other or give each other up." 

"So who do you like more? Atlas or Julia?" 

"Julia," I replied. 

"Why not Atlas?" He lifted a brow. 

"Because he's a lot like you." 

"Does that make you Julia?" he questioned. 

"Maybe, that depends." 

"On what?" 

"Do they end up together? We didn't." 

He nodded, accepting the dig I took at him. "Well, who knows? I mean, who's to say our story's over?" 

I narrowed my eyes on him and he smirked, walking away and over to where we had shelved his copies last night. They're pretty much gone, they'll all be gone by the end of the day. I ordered fifty more copies and then turned the computer off, going back to the book. I'm finishing this thing today. 

He walked back over and I put my reading on pause. "They're almost gone," he grinned. "Do you think you could—" 

"I already ordered fifty more copies," I interrupted him. "They'll be in within three days." 

He just kept beaming and staring at me. 

"What?" I huffed. 

"I would have kissed you right now, that's all." 

My eyebrows shot up as I stared at him. 

He chuckled softly and moved to leave but stopped. "Oh, by the way, sorry." 

"For what?" 

He glanced at the book, then back at me. "You'll know." 

And when I stayed back after closing the store to finish reading the book that evening, I knew. He was apologizing for the ending. You're fucking kidding me. It wasn't real. She wasn't real. 

I scoffed in disbelief, putting the book down and pausing to gather my thoughts before flipping to the last page. 

She wasn't real, she never existed?! In that abandoned town where he stayed all alone, hiding after committing those murders, she was never there and she was nothing but a hallucination?! That's what he did to them?! 

I violently opened the last page, reading it quickly. 

"You have a visitor," the warden said to me through the bars. I stood up numbly and followed him to the visitation room, staring at the handcuffs around my wrists. He unlocked the door, holding it for me. I went and sat in the chair on this side of the glass, waiting for my visitor to walk in. "Ten minutes," he said from the door. "That's all you get." 

I didn't reply and stared ahead of me blankly. 

The door opened and without looking up, from the sound of the heels, from the scent of the perfume, I could tell it was a woman. She pulled the chair, setting a notepad and pen down in front of her. "Atlas Sullivan?" 

I blinked, her voice piercing my ears as I slowly lifted my gaze to hers. And once I looked, I couldn't look away or blink. 

"I'm Julia Winters, your defense attorney," she offered a polite smile. She held my gaze, lifting a single brow at me. 

"J-Julia?" I breathed out. 

She sighed, leaning forward, putting her hands on the table. 

"Is it really you?" I stammered. I felt pathetic at a loss of words like this, not to mention, if this woman wasn't my Julia, then I'm only humiliating myself. 

They said she wasn't real. That no girl ever lived alone in that town, that there was never a girl named Julia in any of the families which resided there. They said I hallucinated her. 

"I'm getting you out of here, Atlas," she replied. 

"Is it you?" I asked sternly. 

Her eyes held mine and she didn't need to use words to give me the answer. It was her. 

"Was any of it real? Were we real, Julia? Or am I going crazy after what I did?" 

"It was real," she whispered, "every bit of it," she mumbled and then cleared her throat. "Please tell me everything that happened. From the beginning," she smiled. 

I sputtered, putting the book down. "What... that's it? How could he just leave it at that? Was she real or not? Oh, my god!" I yelled in frustration, wheeling my chair back. 

That's what he was sorry for. That unfinished ending. I stared at the cover, thinking back to what he said earlier today. 

"Who's to say our story's over?" 

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Chapter 11

I low key want to read Wicked Ruins lmao

I wish it was real but tbh I can't write it because murder is focused on a lot and I can't write that but IMAGINE what a good fucking book that would be smh

next chapter: answers