Status: Getting started, yo.
Ezzy
Perfect.
Both of them exchanged glances, sneers. I realized I had just walked into a kitchen of two people who hated me, both of them allies. It looked like they had been planning something, but had been caught off guard by me. “Where's Jack?” I asked again. I know what I had saw, I know I had felt his cold feet next to my fetal-positioned body.
“Who?” my mom asked dumbly. If she couldn't kill me, I would have smacked her. I mouthed the word: Jack. Mom looked a little uneasy, maybe on the verge of vomiting. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “He's gone.”
“Well no shit!” I screamed, getting more and more enraged with them. I saw my dad sit there calmly, collected, and my mother clenched her fists and started to get as angry as me. “Where is he? I know he was here! I didn't dream that! I saw him.”
There's something about a person's voice, when they're yelling, and then they just stop. They whisper. They fall down. It happened to me, just then. I thought I had snapped, but then I felt cowardly, chickenhearted. Some could say white livered.
They had no idea how I had felt when I saw him on that couch, just like everything had been. He had came here for a reason, to get away from those God-awful parents he was forced to live with. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't feel he was safe.
Rain poured dramatically outside, hitting the window with a sharp, harsh noise that made me shake. The interior of the house was freezing, my nose felt like it had been permanently transformed to an icicle. We weren't living in the great Atlantic, but it sure felt that way. No one answered my questions. I was sure that the chairs were beginning to frost.
I wanted to scream at them, tell them I hated them both and that they could go screw themselves and retire in misery, but I bit my tongue. What good would it even do now? “I'm going back to bed,” I lied. I may have suffered from insomnia, and they were only making it worse.
I grumbled up the stairs, muttering obscenities about how they could all go eff off. I knew part of it was just my hormones, and then I knew another part of me, was serious.
*
I looked at my Facebook news feed, which was giving me pointless crap since I had very few friends. I attempted to talk to Brad, but even over Facebook chat it was awkward. He seemed a little too forward at times, but maybe I was just irritable because my keyboard was dusty and I typed slowly. But then, he said something: “We should hang out, you know. Whenever. My sister likes you too.” Jessica liked me? Really? I mean, she had always been nice, and friendly, like she was to everyone else. But I didn't think she'd actually 'like' me, or take her own time to tell him about it.
It was a one-up from the many downs I had had that day. I'd like to hang out with Brad, but I'd love to hang out with Jessica. Their family was just completely genuine and kind in every single way.
It was the way Jessica wore her hair, I thought. She wore it up, and yet it looked flowing, gorgeous and luscious every day. It was this blondish color. I had to fight myself not to tell her so. She wore those shoes, those fresh, new sandals with the flower where the support in them was. Her jeans, the ripped, distressed, blue jeans. And the floral tops that just added everything. Like I said, she was genuine. She was perfect.
“Who?” my mom asked dumbly. If she couldn't kill me, I would have smacked her. I mouthed the word: Jack. Mom looked a little uneasy, maybe on the verge of vomiting. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “He's gone.”
“Well no shit!” I screamed, getting more and more enraged with them. I saw my dad sit there calmly, collected, and my mother clenched her fists and started to get as angry as me. “Where is he? I know he was here! I didn't dream that! I saw him.”
There's something about a person's voice, when they're yelling, and then they just stop. They whisper. They fall down. It happened to me, just then. I thought I had snapped, but then I felt cowardly, chickenhearted. Some could say white livered.
They had no idea how I had felt when I saw him on that couch, just like everything had been. He had came here for a reason, to get away from those God-awful parents he was forced to live with. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't feel he was safe.
Rain poured dramatically outside, hitting the window with a sharp, harsh noise that made me shake. The interior of the house was freezing, my nose felt like it had been permanently transformed to an icicle. We weren't living in the great Atlantic, but it sure felt that way. No one answered my questions. I was sure that the chairs were beginning to frost.
I wanted to scream at them, tell them I hated them both and that they could go screw themselves and retire in misery, but I bit my tongue. What good would it even do now? “I'm going back to bed,” I lied. I may have suffered from insomnia, and they were only making it worse.
I grumbled up the stairs, muttering obscenities about how they could all go eff off. I knew part of it was just my hormones, and then I knew another part of me, was serious.
*
I looked at my Facebook news feed, which was giving me pointless crap since I had very few friends. I attempted to talk to Brad, but even over Facebook chat it was awkward. He seemed a little too forward at times, but maybe I was just irritable because my keyboard was dusty and I typed slowly. But then, he said something: “We should hang out, you know. Whenever. My sister likes you too.” Jessica liked me? Really? I mean, she had always been nice, and friendly, like she was to everyone else. But I didn't think she'd actually 'like' me, or take her own time to tell him about it.
It was a one-up from the many downs I had had that day. I'd like to hang out with Brad, but I'd love to hang out with Jessica. Their family was just completely genuine and kind in every single way.
It was the way Jessica wore her hair, I thought. She wore it up, and yet it looked flowing, gorgeous and luscious every day. It was this blondish color. I had to fight myself not to tell her so. She wore those shoes, those fresh, new sandals with the flower where the support in them was. Her jeans, the ripped, distressed, blue jeans. And the floral tops that just added everything. Like I said, she was genuine. She was perfect.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)