Hi, it's back.
I've edited the whole book now. Some parts are the same but others are really different. The biggest one is probably that Gianni isn't a mafia boss. He owns a company that is based in weapon control. So he works with the mafia but is...
‼️TW: self harm, mentions of suicide, throwing up.
I totally forgot her brother is dead, anyways.
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~Juniper~
This morning I have been texting with Emerson and eating candy, I learned something's about her. Like how she likes the color pink but only hot pink, and how she is from Boston. She's so cool and confident, and she has good fashion sense. I'm waiting for Gianni to come back in a few hours.
I look at the shiny lollipop that I made Louis go out to get before he left for mafia stuff. I trace the swirling colors that run through each other and up the wooden stick. It's one of those long lollipops that you can deep throat.
Do I have problems? yes.
As I'm sitting on the kitchen floor I contemplate whether deep throating this is a good idea or not.
What can go wrong.
I open my mouth and shove the candy down my throat. Immediately gagging, I throw the lollipop away from me.
I need to be hospitalized.
I don't know why I did that. It tasted good though. My throat hurts. A ringing from my phone that is on the kitchen counter makes me pull my hand from rubbing my neck. Looking at the caller ID, I see that Mia is calling.
Bitch.
What if she's dead.
Then how is she calling you, your so dumb.
I hesitantly answer, putting the phone to my ear. Listen for someone to tell me she's dead. She high pitched voice sounds instead.
Damn. Got my hopes up. Jk.
"Do you have my sweater?" She asks dully with a hint of annoyance in her tone.
I think hard before answering. About if she deserves to hear my voice.
Good has to start somewhere.
"No." I say simply.
"What do you mean no. Just where is it." She doesn't hide her annoyance this time.
"Sorry, Mia, I don't have your sweater." I say calmly.
"Can you look around the hotel room?" She counters me.
If I was there, I wouldn't look.
"I'm not at the hotel." I start. "And I don't have your damn sweater." Im getting irritated with the fact she can't understand that I don't have it.
"You can't keep track of a sweater," She fights back. "Just go kill yourself, I don't know why I had to ever meet you."
My heart drops to my stomach. Air caught in my sore throat, words mix with the stale breath. That's to far. I feel my heart race and my face tense, my eyes start to hurt.
