‹ Prequel: My Unintended
Déjà vu
I can't do it
Michaela’s P.O.V
I just can’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to. God help me, I really wanted to. I couldn’t burst his bubble like that, he was finally moving on with his life.
I just wanted to know the truth so badly.
“Kayla?” His voice echoed around the empty kitchen and I jumped, forcing my attention from the bottom of my cereal bowl to his tired face.
“Hey Frankie,” I mumbled, glancing from him to the clock and back again. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, got band stuff to do today,” He said, wandering over to the coffee maker.
God, that machine had been through some shit in its life. Apparently it had lived in that corner for about 17 years. That thing was older than I was!
“You okay? You look a bit pale.” He said, taking a mouthful of his coffee. I nodded and gazed at him for another second before standing up and shoving my bowl into the dishwasher.
Frank was blessed in the looks department. He was 34 but looked really good for his age. He still had the same lip ring, same nose ring, same earrings and the same clothes. The only things that had changed were his hair and his endless amounts of tattoos.
I shook my head slightly to break from my trance and left the kitchen.
That was sick, Frank was out of bounds. God, I could never have a chance with Frank even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, it was practically incest!
I walked up to my bedroom muttering to myself about how insane it was to think of Frank like that when he was married to my dad. As I pushed open my door I laughed quietly at my stupidity.
I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't mad by talking to myself.
I sat cautiously on my bed, it was as if the nightmare was stored inside my bed and when I sat on the mattress, it jumped out and ate at my brain cells. I had been having the same dream for weeks and I couldn’t figure out what it meant. I just knew it had something to do with her.
My mother.
I sighed at the thought of her and stood back up, walking to my wardrobe and throwing open the wooden doors. I stood there for a moment thinking about what to wear.
It wouldn’t matter, she couldn’t see me.
It just made me feel better when I stood there every Saturday afternoon at my mother’s grave. I could feel her presence and wanted so badly to know what she thought about how I looked when I visited her.
It would never happen.
She was gone forever.
A/N: Okay people, that was just a little filler chapter to let you know some stuff about what's going on without me just pouring it onto a plate for you...
How are you liking this so far then?
I just can’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to. God help me, I really wanted to. I couldn’t burst his bubble like that, he was finally moving on with his life.
I just wanted to know the truth so badly.
“Kayla?” His voice echoed around the empty kitchen and I jumped, forcing my attention from the bottom of my cereal bowl to his tired face.
“Hey Frankie,” I mumbled, glancing from him to the clock and back again. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, got band stuff to do today,” He said, wandering over to the coffee maker.
God, that machine had been through some shit in its life. Apparently it had lived in that corner for about 17 years. That thing was older than I was!
“You okay? You look a bit pale.” He said, taking a mouthful of his coffee. I nodded and gazed at him for another second before standing up and shoving my bowl into the dishwasher.
Frank was blessed in the looks department. He was 34 but looked really good for his age. He still had the same lip ring, same nose ring, same earrings and the same clothes. The only things that had changed were his hair and his endless amounts of tattoos.
I shook my head slightly to break from my trance and left the kitchen.
That was sick, Frank was out of bounds. God, I could never have a chance with Frank even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, it was practically incest!
I walked up to my bedroom muttering to myself about how insane it was to think of Frank like that when he was married to my dad. As I pushed open my door I laughed quietly at my stupidity.
I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't mad by talking to myself.
I sat cautiously on my bed, it was as if the nightmare was stored inside my bed and when I sat on the mattress, it jumped out and ate at my brain cells. I had been having the same dream for weeks and I couldn’t figure out what it meant. I just knew it had something to do with her.
My mother.
I sighed at the thought of her and stood back up, walking to my wardrobe and throwing open the wooden doors. I stood there for a moment thinking about what to wear.
It wouldn’t matter, she couldn’t see me.
It just made me feel better when I stood there every Saturday afternoon at my mother’s grave. I could feel her presence and wanted so badly to know what she thought about how I looked when I visited her.
It would never happen.
She was gone forever.
A/N: Okay people, that was just a little filler chapter to let you know some stuff about what's going on without me just pouring it onto a plate for you...
How are you liking this so far then?