Status: hiatus
Soul Searching
Neighbor
Tate slowly crosses the room, watching Anastacia's eyes flutter shut and quickly open.
If she notices his presence, she doesn't acknowledge it. She continues to struggle to stay on the line of semi consciousness, but fails when her light blue eyes slowly roll back and her eyelids fall.
Tate quickly closes the space between him and the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He sits and watches Anastacia's chest continue to rise and fall... rise and fall... rise and fall.
Anastacia opens her heavy eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. Feeling the strange sensation of being watched, she looks around the room.
Tate is sitting at her desk, watching her.
"H-hey," her voice is slightly raspy.
"What'd you take?"
"A pill for my mood. It always does that."
Tate's nose scrunches up, "I don't like it."
"Me either. It pretty much debilitates me, but it stops my panic attacks."
"Panic attacks?"
She nods, scratching her scalp.
"What makes you panic?"
"What doesn't make me panic?" The young girl smirks, sinking further back into her pillows.
Tate smirks, "seriously, though. What makes you tick?"
She shrugs, "a lot of things. I hate all bugs. I don't like closed in spaces. I don't like being cornered. I'm really self-conscious... really, just the usual triggers, I guess."
Tate nods.
"I should probably go downstairs and see my mom...
"Your mom's home?"
Anastacia nods, "you should probably just stay up here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Tate watches as the young woman emerges from under the quilt and scratches her scalp as she grabs her short, silk robe and wraps it around her semi-exposed body.
"You probably shouldn't have seen that," Anastacia's words slur slightly as she fumbles to tie her robe.
He holds his hands up, "seen what?"
She laughs lightly, "and you're a gentleman. Ugh, I'll be right back."
Almost five minutes later, Anastacia stops when she steps into the kitchen.
“This must be your daughter,” the woman’s southern accent is painfully distinct.
Blinking slowly, Anastacia looks at her mother.
Danielle Carter’s dirty blonde hair is in a bun on the crown of her head and she has on a pair of business pants and a short sleeved blouse. There are bags under her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “Anastacia, this is our neighbor Constance.”
Anastacia musters a smile, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, dear. Are you still in school?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you attend Westfield?”
Anastacia nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Constance nods, “well, aren’t you supposed to be in school by now, then?”
“Yeah…I, uh, slept in a little.”
Danielle nods, “well, you should probably go get dressed then.”
Without a word, Anastacia nods and leaves the kitchen. She wanders back to her bedroom and sits down on her bed.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugs, “I need to get ready for school.”
Tate lets his gaze move with the young woman’s body as she pulls one of her dresser drawers open. “You’re actually going to school?”
“Yeah,” she nods, “I have to.”
If she notices his presence, she doesn't acknowledge it. She continues to struggle to stay on the line of semi consciousness, but fails when her light blue eyes slowly roll back and her eyelids fall.
Tate quickly closes the space between him and the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He sits and watches Anastacia's chest continue to rise and fall... rise and fall... rise and fall.
Anastacia opens her heavy eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. Feeling the strange sensation of being watched, she looks around the room.
Tate is sitting at her desk, watching her.
"H-hey," her voice is slightly raspy.
"What'd you take?"
"A pill for my mood. It always does that."
Tate's nose scrunches up, "I don't like it."
"Me either. It pretty much debilitates me, but it stops my panic attacks."
"Panic attacks?"
She nods, scratching her scalp.
"What makes you panic?"
"What doesn't make me panic?" The young girl smirks, sinking further back into her pillows.
Tate smirks, "seriously, though. What makes you tick?"
She shrugs, "a lot of things. I hate all bugs. I don't like closed in spaces. I don't like being cornered. I'm really self-conscious... really, just the usual triggers, I guess."
Tate nods.
"I should probably go downstairs and see my mom...
"Your mom's home?"
Anastacia nods, "you should probably just stay up here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Tate watches as the young woman emerges from under the quilt and scratches her scalp as she grabs her short, silk robe and wraps it around her semi-exposed body.
"You probably shouldn't have seen that," Anastacia's words slur slightly as she fumbles to tie her robe.
He holds his hands up, "seen what?"
She laughs lightly, "and you're a gentleman. Ugh, I'll be right back."
Almost five minutes later, Anastacia stops when she steps into the kitchen.
“This must be your daughter,” the woman’s southern accent is painfully distinct.
Blinking slowly, Anastacia looks at her mother.
Danielle Carter’s dirty blonde hair is in a bun on the crown of her head and she has on a pair of business pants and a short sleeved blouse. There are bags under her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “Anastacia, this is our neighbor Constance.”
Anastacia musters a smile, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, dear. Are you still in school?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you attend Westfield?”
Anastacia nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Constance nods, “well, aren’t you supposed to be in school by now, then?”
“Yeah…I, uh, slept in a little.”
Danielle nods, “well, you should probably go get dressed then.”
Without a word, Anastacia nods and leaves the kitchen. She wanders back to her bedroom and sits down on her bed.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugs, “I need to get ready for school.”
Tate lets his gaze move with the young woman’s body as she pulls one of her dresser drawers open. “You’re actually going to school?”
“Yeah,” she nods, “I have to.”
♠ ♠ ♠
What do you think?xoxo