*A moment of silence for the holy hotness of Diego Barrueco*

Carry on.

I picked mindlessly at the lasagna Marie had prepared for dinner that night. A piece of broccoli tumbled out. The clock inched towards the 11. Dad and Marie were chuckling heartily at whatever he said. I blocked out most of the conversation.

I couldn't get over what Marie had told me.

Okay. So maybe I was overreacting. I mean, even Marie had said the system was corrupt. Maybe Scar had told me his parents died in a car accident because it was too complicated to say what actually happened. I couldn't blame him for not bringing up old memories. After all, it was better to lie than to explain they died from a drug overdose. A pang of guilt floated up in my chest. I couldn't imagine what he had went through.

Scar's past was risky, I knew that much. Someone even stabbed him because of what he did, for Pete's sake! He owed money to people. His parents didn't die in a car crash. His little sister had gone missing when she was 3. He lived alone. 

He was everything I should avoid.

Marie suddenly glanced at me. "Genevieve, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale. Maybe we did overdo it at the mall."

"I'll say." Dad chuckled.

I nodded, giving a small smile as to not raise any suspicions. Marie still looked at me worriedly. I finished most of the lasagna in 5 minutes. A sudden thought came to mind. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight without knowing the real story with Scar. So why not get it directly from the source?

"Um, maybe I'm not feeling to well Dad." I lied. "I think I'm gonna crash for the rest of the night. Good night Dad. And Marie." I added. I stumbled up and put my plate in the sink, so caught up in thinking that I didn't even bother washing it. Marie gave me a tight smile as I left.

My feet padded the steps as I quickly hurried to my room. After making sure that Marie and Dad were still talking quietly in the kitchen, I set up my bed as I would do when I was sleeping. Only tonight, I wouldn't be there. All I needed was 5 minutes alone with Scar, just to talk. Then I would go back to avoiding him. Hopefully, my father wouldn't check up on me tonight. Him and Marie had been drinking copious amounts of red wine with dinner, so I hoped the luck was in my favor.

I pulled on a black sweater and converse, trying to form a plan. Obviously, I couldn't sneak out the front door. Or the back door, because the only one available was in the kitchen. My best chance was through the window, like Scar had done. Hopefully, I wouldn't die. 

Hopefully.

Although I was pretty sure I would.

God help me. 

I opened the window, instantly chilled by the winter night air. Ignoring the cold, I pulled myself out and stepped very carefully onto the ledge. My first steps on the roof were shaky. There was only a few shingles of tile between the roof and the pavement below. I stumbled my way across, holding onto the house. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears as I neared the end of the roof, where a trail of dead roses grew up the side along a thick, ladder-like board.

I suddenly felt my left foot lose grip of the shingles. I let out a harsh yelp, feeling my heart drop straight to my toes. My hands shot out to grab onto one of the window sills I was passing. I stood there for a few seconds, heart thudding. This was so not worth it. This was so freaking not worth it. What in God's green earth was I thinking, climbing out of a window just to get some information?! It was not worth it. I was gonna die. I was gonna d-

Breathe, Genevieve. You can do this! 

Yeah right.

Taking a deep breath, I let go of the ledge and jumped to the edge of the roof, planting myself down. A sense of accomplishment filled me. I gripped the board, yanking the sweater over my hands so the thorns wouldn't stab my beautiful hands.

Just kidding.

I slowly made my way down, cursing words with every breath I took. And when I ran out of curse words, I began to make some up. After about 10 fake curse words, I looked down. The ground was about 3 feet away. I jumped down, resisting the urge to kiss the ground. Despite the cloth, my fingers bled and I was pretty sure there was a cricket in the hood of my jacket.

I quickly hurried across the yard, finally able to breath a sigh of relief when the darkness of Scar's porch hid me from view. Taking a deep breath, I searched for the doorbell.

There was none.

Wait.

What kind of house doesn't have a doorbell?

I stared at the thick wooden door. There was a golden knocker with the snarling face of a lion, but I doubted he could hear me through that. But I still tried. I did not make a home for a cricket in my clothes just to go back home. I lifted the heavy knocker and let it drop. 

To my surprise, the door creaked open when the arch hit it.

Unsure, I stood on the welcome mat. Do I just walk in? Who does that? That is so rude. But the hallway was dark. Was Scar even home? Where would he go at a horrid hour like this? Well gosh, Genevieve, how are you supposed to know?! Oh, here's an idea. 

Stop talking to yourself.

I finally decided to go inside. I stepped foot in the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. I couldn't find one.

"Scar?" I whispered.

Why are you whispering, Genevieve?! Does he have sensitive hearing? Is that why you must whisper? How in the actual hell is he supposed to hear you when yo-

Yeah. Maybe I should stop talking to myself.

"Scar?" I said louder. I cautiously looked around. Darkness shrouded the entire hallway and past that. I could barely make out a staircase in front of me. I ran my fingers across the smooth wall until it hit something plastic. I snapped the light on, blinking furiously at the harsh glow.

The hallway was normal, I guess. There wasn't really a way to describe it. The walls were a pale flesh colour. The living room, which I assumed it was, loomed large as life off to the side. An enormous flat screen TV hung on the plaster wall, accompanied by red velvet couch. The carpet was a matching tan color as the walls. The kitchen was adjourned to the living room. It was dark beyond that. The one thing I did notice is that there was not a single picture frame anywhere in sight.

Okay. Good enough. At least there was no gun or bloody knives or a dead body in sight.

I crept forward, feeling a twinge of guilt. What was I doing? This was practically breaking and entering. Calling Scar's name, I stepped on the first stair and stopped. Should I go on? Was Scar even home? But then why would the door be open? He surely wasn't stupid enough to leave it like that.

I climbed the rest of the stairs. There was a sliver of light coming from the slit beneath one of the doors. Okay, that was a good sign. As I neared, I could hear a funny noise coming from the inside. It sounded like someone...gasping. Then there was a loud crash, like glass hitting a wood floor.

I leaped forward and pushed the door open, preparing myself for the bloody sight of Scar and his attacker.

I froze.

My mouth dropped open.

It was the last thing I expected to see.

And I mean like, dead last. Not even last last. Like....freaking last. Like laster than a snail in a race with a couple of cheetahs.

You know what I mean?

Scar was...oh dear God....naked in bed. His face was frozen with the shocked look. He was leaning above a girl, who also was staring at me in horror. It was...Nora. Her black hair was falling over her flawless face, and she had on skanky red lingerie that was almost see through. They were both breathing heavily.

I slapped my hand over my virgin eyes and whirled away from the embarrassing sight.

"O-Oh my God!" I shrieked. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! Holy cow poop, I totally did not mean- oh my gosh, is this real? Oh my God, this is a dream-"

"Genevieve...." Scar's voice was soft when he spoke, but it held all the urgency for me to get the hint. "What are you doing here?"

"S-Sorry!" I stuttered, feeling a huge wave of heat rise on my cheeks. "Yes, I'll be going. Oh my God, this was a mistake. I totally d-did not mean to do this. Holy fuck, I am so sorry!" I kept babbling, keeping my hand forced over my eyes. "My virgin eyes." I whispered softly, trying to get the horrible mental image of them out of my mind's eye. 

I all but ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I didn't stop blushing until I got outside, where the cool air was a much-appreciated distraction from what they had been doing. I was raised in a good Catholic home. I had been shielded from anything sexual or bad my entire life....

As I stood in his yard, 3 thoughts came to mind.

One, I really did not like Nora Moore.

Two, Scar didn't have any feelings for me. At all. I may have had a mild crush on him, but all that had gone straight out the window. The harsh feeling of rejection slapped me in the face when I realized this. Of course he would only fuck Nora. She was perfect in every way.

And three, Scar had a very big penis.

Okay, forget the last one.

I may not have gotten my answers, but I surely got an eyeful of something else. It was enough to make me hide in my room and never come back out, which is exactly what I planned to do once I got home. Him touching my bra was enough to make me blush, but this crossed the line. I did not need to see them engage in....yeah.

I crossed the yards and got home safely through the rose board and the roof. I didn't even feel the same amount of fear I walked on the ledge. Or maybe I hadn't noticed. My mind was elsewhere. I mean, not in his bedroom. No, I was thinking about anything else but that.

The room was as dark and empty as I had left it. Through the closed door, I could hear the quiet chatter of the television in the living room. I shed all my clothes except for my tank top and underwear, and then climbed into bed. My mind kept swirling with the still-vivid image. I tried to shut it out. 

It was none of my business, what Nora or Scar did. I pledged to myself that I would never meddle with his life again if I could help it. I didn't need to know what happened to his parents, or Isabella. I didn't care who Scar hooked up with. Like I said before...I was perfectly fine with my books. Scar and I don't mix. He's fire, and I'm the oil. He's salt and I'm sugar. He's spaghetti sauce, and I'm a white shirt. He's- well, you get the point.

So why did I feel like my heart had been broken into a million pieces?