↠Prologue↞

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WELCOME TO VOLUME II OF
17 MISSED CALLS

I hope you're ready for another dozens of crazy chapters!

Song for the prologue:
(Please listen to it)

Hold on - Justin Bieber
| start the audio version at 0:33 |

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Prologue

Dear One Thought Diary,
I'm pretty sure that you're wondering why I named you this way. Well . . . that's because I don't really do diaries, but right now, I just need to get some things off my chest.
After everything that happened this summer, I feel like it might be one of the worst but also the best times of my life.
And the holidays aren't even over yet.
It's hard to believe that I'm standing here right now, writing this . . .
With everything going on between me and Will, me and Nathan, after everything that happened to Rayna . . . all the mistakes that we'd made . . . especially when it comes to judging some people . . . I'm just glad that I haven't gone crazy.
I have changed, yes, quite a lot actually, but I guess I had a reason. Just like he had one himself . . . But his own had been forced upon him, and I can't blame him for becoming the person that he's turned into. I'm just hoping that his change is only temporary. It's so hard to see him this way. It's like the Will I'd once known is gone for good.
When it comes to Nathan, I think he deserves a second place for becoming someone unrecognizable — I'm right behind him in this crazy race of evolving into a different person.
The only one that hasn't changed is Anaya, and if I'm being honest, I think I owe her my sanity. If not her, it probably would've been long gone.
And that's all I had to say for now, my One Thought Diary. You do well, and take the ashes of my words far away from here. As far as you can.
Love and hate,
Davina.

I re-read the note that I've just scribbled, and having taken a lighter out of the pocket of my black, leather shorts, I light it up, letting the long flame consume one of the corners of the paper marked with pen.

I intently watch my words turn into ashy flakes, the warm wind takes them away to their final resting place.

When the flames get too close to my fingers, and their torridness becomes present on my skin, I let the remnants of the paper out of my hand and observe the way it turns into oblivion in the air.

"You okay?" I hear a voice behind me, a very familiar one.

"Yeah, I'm good." I sigh, shooting one last glimpse in the direction of the ashes of my words, now merrily soaring in the gentle, warm gust of the wind.

"Do you need a hug?" he asks, opening his arms in an encouraging way.

With my mind still buzzing from all the thoughts that I have just poured down onto the sheet, I actually find myself in the need of being embraced.

Flashing a feeble smile, I let him close his arms around my shoulders and rest my cheek against his chest.

"She'll be fine," he whispers, his voice is soothing.

"Hopefully," I murmur. "I still can't believe that it almost happened." I sigh, my head starts to hurt from all the thinking. "Just the thought of it actually–"

"But it didn't," he states, pulling away. "You look tired. Maybe have some rest?" he offers, his eyes are warm.

"Not until I know that she's fine," I mutter, subsequently biting on the inside of my cheek.

"Let me at least grab you a cup of coffee then, okay?" He places his hand atop my shoulder, quizzically gazing into my eyes.

"That'd be great. Thanks, Connor," I mutter in an appreciative tone, shooting him a faint smile.

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