The PlayMaker

Chapter 6

A/N: I decided to stop dividing each chapter into parts. It is confusing.

I apologize for the lack of description for chapter 5 alone. Okay, I honestly don't know if there was a lack of description or not but for me, there was a lack.

I put in the most effort into this chapter and I hope it makes up for it. It is also the longest chapter in the book so far so I hope you enjoy it...

LIKE>VOTE>COMMENT and share if you like it,

BYYYYEEEE!!!!

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2 Weeks,

It's been 2 weeks since M and I talked.

After the whole park incident, it's understandable. I tried texting him but it was a no-brainer that he started ghosting me again. I didn't spam him or anything.

M also stopped showing up at school as well.

In the beginning, I thought it was my fault and that he was aggravated, but the Dean later revealed that he would be homeschooled till further notice because of his own safety.

I was the only one who understood why.

I sat on my lumpy mattress and looked at the water-damaged ceiling that leaked every now and then.

I remembered what had happened at the park.

That night was one of the strangest and out-of-place nights I ever had.

I was still traumatized, and would usually check the outside of my window to make sure that no one was watching me, just in case.

I was so bored.

The atmosphere in the room was dull and weary.

My mum had gone out to run some errands.

BEEP

A message notification sounded.

I picked up my phone which was under the pile of unwashed laundry in the corner of the room.

At first, I had thought it was M, trying to reach me back but I was wrong, which made me kind of disappointed.

It was Dereck.

He rarely texted me which made it even the more weirder.

Hey, I was discharged from the hospital yesterday

His text began.

The doctors said I had fully recovered.

I was texting you to thank you for visiting me regularly and making sure I was alright.

"It was nothing. Really." I replied.

I am really thankful and it was a big deal. If I was strong enough, I wouldn't have ended up unconscious, bloody, and in a hospital bed.

I started feeling sorry for him. I really hated self-pity. I believe it makes you weak and you have to own up and make the change. No walloping in a pile of your lack of self-confidence.

"Your right. If you were not so weak you maybe wouldn't have ended up looking like you were involved in an accident. But will self-pity help you in any way, will it make up for your lack of strength? Short answer NO!"

This was what I wanted to send. But I didn't want to come off insensitive in any way.

"Sorry."