|U N E D I T E D|

There are three hundred and sixty seven tiles on the walls of my en-suite. It takes me fifteen steps to go from my bedroom to the front door. Funny, how I never noticed these things before.

Perhaps when someone spends too much time holed up with only their thoughts for company, they begin to notice such futile things that had never seemed to matter before. I had nothing to do. Nothing to kill my time with.

My self-imposed exile had left me bereft and isolated from the rest of the world.

I was certain my friends had called me a million times in the span of the week that I had gone missing from their lives. But my phone was dead and a permanent fixture locked away anyone who had come to see me.

I don't think I can bear to be with people. My thoughts are scattered and my solace lies in these moments where I can vent them out through my fingers. With each word seeping from within me and imprinting on the screen, I feel much better. As though I can finally breath after being subjected to asphyxia.

The black had faded soon enough. And there it lay— beneath all the darkness blanketing it: white. Blinding white with not a speck of color to accompany it.

I feel empty, as though the life has been sucked right out of me. There's no one here because I want to be alone. Sometimes I wonder if it is a good thing to be left alone for so long. I wonder if I'll go insane if I stay locked in here for months. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know.

I've never felt this blank.

I don't want to go outside because I know that the world hasn't stopped revolving, time hasn't stopped to let me grieve. Lives go on and mine is just as ordinary as the next person's.

I don't want to see how people didn't feel what I felt. I don't want to see that people are living their lives with laughter whilst I try to let go of a memory that has grasped onto me with a vice-like grip. I want to move forward and break free.

But I can't because I'm suspended in a blankness that I've never seen before.

My world has spun around it's axis and gone still. My thoughts locked in that moment and my body a reminder of their sins.

There's nothing before me but an expanse of blankness and I'm afraid to find out what color I'll feel next.

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Her phone began ringing the moment it switched on. 'Wings' by Little Mix started playing and the music resounded across her empty apartment.

Gwyneth glanced at her iPhone for a moment before turning back to stare at the TV.

But a moment after it silenced, it started ringing again. She knew who was calling. She'd set the caller tune for her mother. But she couldn't fathom how she would talk to her mother after what had happened.

Gwyneth knew that her parents were probably worried, not hearing from her for days. And her mother's mild anxiety disorder had her panicked if she didn't call at least once a day. She was surprised her mother hadn't boarded the first flight and barged in through her door yet.

She didn't know what to feel if that did happen. On one hand, it would've been an open distraction. Perhaps her mother's vivacious nature might even have her bounce back to how she had been before that night.

Or, she would feel even more empty— trying to communicate but failing because of the panic that spread through her when she recounted the events.

There was another reason though, why she hadn't dared talk to anyone about what had conspired— they'd threatened her and she didn't know if they would live up to their threats.

The persistent ringing of her phone had Gwyneth sighing. Gingerly, she stretched across the sofa and extended her hand towards the little table tucked at the intersection of the two sofas. Sliding her phone across the smooth mahogany table, she lifted it and stared at the picture that had filled up the screen.

Barbara Wolff was a kind of timeless beauty. With her beautiful porcelain face, bright coral eyes and dark brown hair that was perfectly straight and flowed down to the middle of her back; she was absolutely stunning. Not to mention, her well maintained physique and her reputation as one of the most celebrated fashion designers.

She could bring the most powerful men to their knees.

But the picture that stared back at her wasn't that of Barbara Wolff—the legend of the fashion industry. No, it was her mother, clad in a pretty white jumpsuit and a pair of black peep-toe heels. Her posture was relaxed as she blew a kiss to the camera— to Gwyneth's father.

There was no sight of the arrogant and unfeeling designer. This was her mom surrounded by brightness and an aura of happiness emanating from her.

Even Gwyneth found herself smiling at the picture.

Taking a deep breath, she swiped across the screen and set the phone over her ear.

"Gwyneth! You seriously need to stop giving me panic attacks all the time! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I knew you would do something like this. But of course, your dad wouldn't agree with me. You may be a legal adult now, but you're still my baby girl and you owe it to us to let us know if you're going to disappear off the face of ethe arth. I'm coming there right now to bring you straight back home!" Her mother voice filled her ear.

She was clearly mad. Gwyneth could even hear her breath in and out— probably using one of the calming exercises that her psychiatrist had recommended for her.

"Mom! Calm down. I'm fine! You know that the new semester started, so I've been very busy lately." Gwyneth said, exasperated.

"Stop lying. Faith called me to ask if I knew where you were. You haven't been going to your classes." Her mother snapped.

Shit! Why did Faith have to call her mother. She knew that her mother went ballistic if she didn't hear from Gwyneth frequently.

"Okay, I lied. I was actually working on a few songs and I got carried away because I had way too many ideas." Gwyneth lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. She had been working on songs, just not this week.

Her mother sighed. "Fine, just don't disappear like that again. I was worried. Penny had a meltdown too because she overheard your dad and I talking, and she misses you."

Her heart warmed at the thought of her little sister. "I miss her like crazy too. Send me a picture of her! I haven't seen her in so long."

"Of course, darling." Her mother replied. "Another thing, did you think about shifting apartments? I really don't trust the security in yours. There's no concierge, for god's sake. I know how important it is for you to be independent. But we think you should move out of there. The location isn't all that great either."

Gwyneth's heart dropped. Memories of that night flashed through her mind's eye and she held the phone away from her, covering the mouthpiece. Her breath came in short gasps and she counted down from ten.

"...Gwyneth? Gwen? Hello?" Her mother's voice enquired when she placed the phone against her ear again.

"Yeah, mom, I was just drinking water." She lied again.

"Okay, so will you think about it? Frank will help with the moving part. He's flying down there in two days, I think." Her mother said.

Gwyneth remained quiet for a few moments. The walls of her once beloved apartment closed in, leaving her claustrophobic. Everywhere she looked, it reminded her of him. Of them.

And it was so hard to not scream and cry about the unfairness she had received. She should've listened to her mother instead of being stubborn. This wouldn't have happened. She could've done so many things differently.

"Gwen? You there?" Her mother asked.

"Yeah, Yeah. I think I want to move. I need a change." She replied.

"Sweetheart... did something happen? You sound off."

"Nothing, mom. I'm just really tired."

Her mother let out a deep breath. "Okay, it was just too easy to convince you. Frank will be there for the moving process, okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Nothing's wrong. Anyway, I have to go. Bye ,mom." Gwyneth said, trying to keep her voice straight.

"Love you, sweetie." Her mother's voice came, full of love and warmth.

"Love you, mom."

Placing the phone on her lap, she stared down with tears threatening to escape her eyes. She'd hated every lie she'd said. She hated that she felt like she had to hide what had happened.

A single teardrop fell on the black screen of her iPhone. Then another. The tears kept falling and her shoulders shook as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes.

This was what it would be like from now. Lies and lies. Crafted lies so no one could find out the truth.

Gwyneth feared that these lies would eventually distance them— keep her away from her family. But most of all, she feared that these lies would tear her apart. Despite the fact that she'd been shattered already.

•••

He hadn't anticipated it when a sleek black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. He'd watched as the owner of the car stepped out, clad in skinny jeans, a red satin crop-top with a leather jacket slung across her shoulders. Her golden hair was weaved into a messy fishtail with wisps of hair framing her delicate features.

A few people had stopped and stared, fascinated by the aura that ebbed from her small frame. Her eyes were covered with large sunglasses, adding to her fierce image. She had fumbled with her bag before stepping out and shutting the door of her car.

Daniel had watched as she walked into the café— her hips swaying.

Where had she been for the past two weeks? She just pranced in as though she hadn't completely disappeared off the face of ethe arth.

Daniel was sitting and trying his hardest to pay attention to the lecture but his eyes kept straying towards Gwyneth, who was seated three rows before him.

He hadn't approached her. Not because he was scared of rejection but because he was angry at her for leaving him hanging. And because he'd seen her glance at him, but she hadn't approached him.

She hadn't approached him in the hallway when he was standing alone, leaning against the wall. She hadn't approached him before their professor arrived. But Daniel knew that she'd seen him.

A buzz in his pocket tore his gaze away from the back of her head, and he glanced down at his phone after fishing it out of his pocket. It was Evan.

Daniel read the message quickly before typing in a quick reply, saying that he'd meet Evan at the Steakhouse.

He looked up to see Gwyneth staring at him. Her eyes were wide open and darted away as soon as he returned her gaze. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he controlled his anger.

Well, if she was so inclined on keeping away from him, he wouldn't go out of his way to get her to talk to him either.

The door of the cosy steakhouse jingled and Evan greeted, "Hey! You're here."

Daniel looked up to see Gwyneth.

Evan was grinning from eye-to-eye and she just looked annoyed. "You didn't tell me he'd be here." She grumbled, taking a seat next to Evan.

Evan slung a hand over her shoulders and smirked at him. "I'm sure Dan's been curious of your whereabouts."

Daniel frowned. Well, from what she had just said, it was clear that she didn't want to meet him. He felt his anger return.

"You both enjoy your lunch. I'll see you later." He nodded at Evan, preparing to get up.

"Daniel." It wasn't Evan's voice that stopped him.

"I'm sorry. I should've called but I— I got held up." She said. Guilt simmered in her eyes along with something else and he could swear that she looked as though she was about to cry.

"Why are you avoiding me then? Clearly, you don't want anything to do with me. I'll leave and make things easier for you." He said, getting up from their table.

He ignored their protests and strode out of the restaurant. He headed back towards the campus and was just about to turn a corner when a hand clamped around his elbow.

Halting, he looked back to see Gwyneth. She stood nervously, her eyes darting around her. She looked almost scared. Did she seriously think he would hurt her?

That just added fuel to the fire. Daniel clenched his jaw and wrenched his arm from her grip.

"Daniel! Please." There was something in the way she said it, as though she was pleading for her life. Daniel turned back.

"I'm sorry, okay. I had to move out of my apartment this week. So I had been very busy with that. I didn't even have time to call anyone. You have to know that." Gwyneth said.

"You could've called for five seconds." He snapped.

She scowled. "I don't see why you're getting so worked up over this. We barely even know each other and you're acting like a suffocating boyfriend."

"That's what you're going to say." Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Really? It's common human nature to be worried about someone if they disappear for two weeks without a trace. No one could get ahold of you and now you come back with your shit excuses. I would've understood that it was an emergency but you blatantly ignored me today. What the fuck's up with that?"

"You were worried?" Gwyneth asked.

"Is that all you heard? Obviously, I was fucking worried. I realised after getting out of your apartment that it was way too fucking late for you to go up alone. What if something had happened to you?—" Gwyneth flinched and he went on, "—I went back to see if everything was fine but you were gone and we had no idea which flat you live in." Daniel said flatly.

He stared at her as a myriad of emotions passed across her face. He could sense devastation, loneliness and anger. A lot of anger.

"Then why didn't you! You should've come up and searched for me, you should've... I... Whatever, I should go." Her voice died out in a whisper and he stared at her.

This was definitely not the Gwyneth Wolff that everyone knew. And he realised then —what it was that was missing— her trademark mischievous smile that seemed to take over her face whenever someone talked to her.

So, he finally looked at her. He noticed the heavy cake of makeup that was done unnoticeably uneven. Her bright eyes had dimmed ever so slightly and when she darted her eyes away from his gaze the millionth time that day, he realised that something was seriously wrong.

"Gwyneth. What happened?" He asked her retreating back.

She stopped and replied, still not looking at him, "What? Nothing happened."

He wouldn't have noticed it— the slight glitch in her voice, had she not clenched her left fist tightly. Her posture was rigid and nervous, nothing like the girl he knew.

"Something's wrong." He insisted, tugging her around to face him.

"Seriously, it's nothing. Let's just go, yeah. Evan will be upset if you don't come. He's so clingy." She smiled and started to walk back towards the restaurant.

He followed. He always would. There was just something about her that was so alluring, and he let himself be blinded by the glamour she'd placed upon her. He let himself be fooled by the fake smiles she threw at everyone.

She's fine. She's fine. He kept repeating every time her pretence faltered.

She laughed with her best friend and fed them excuses for disappearing for the past two weeks. But he noticed how she'd inclined away from her best friend's hug. He noticed how nervous and jumpy she got whenever someone touched her, but he pushed those thoughts under the rug and believed that she was fine.

Why wouldn't she be?

But then he noticed —towards the end of the evening— when she let the glamour fall and he finally saw her. He watched as her once bright eyes faded to dim and her entire body exhaled with the weight of the world.

And right when they were stepping out of the restaurant, his hand at the small of her back, and hers fumbling with her bag— searching for her vibrating phone, he realised.

Her body locked up as she opened the text. Her face was ashen, devoid of colour.

He knew right then, that Gwyneth Wolff was not okay. Something had happened and no amount of fake smiles could hide the fact that the most colourful girl had just begun to feel as though she'd been deprived of any colour.