❝You make me a better writer. ❞
❝And you make me a better person.❞
. . • ☆ . ° .• -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-°:. *₊ ° .
Stuck between the land of the living and isle of the dead, Dahlia Molina struggles on making the choice of staying with her loved ones, or fully...
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IV. FALSE PROMISES
Dahlia was unsure why she was still awake. She tossed and turned beneath her duvet, contemplating to herself whether the idea to cut Luke off was a good decision. A part of her—the rational part— knew he had done nothing wrong.
The irrational part, however, disagreed. It was an inner conflict of indecisiveness that left Dahlia losing sleep. She hadn't even remembered closing her eyes, but the situation had only added more exhaustion to her day-to-day life.
When she woke up the next morning, everything ached. Her alarm did nothing but add to the intensity of her pounding headache, with an inhumane force as if she had been run over, and her bones felt like they had been dipped in acid. She attempted to sit up, blinking as she tried to get rid of her upcoming migraine.
Maybe she shouldn't have skipped the coffee yesterday...or maybe she should start trying to sleep for more than three hours a night. Maybe she should just start taking care of herself more in general.
Her vision focused as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face glowing as she looked more rested than she had in days.
Hmph. At least Dahlia looked much better than she felt.
While it was too early to make lifestyle changes, it was much too late in the morning to attempt to crawl back into bed for that extra five minutes. Dahlia had to will herself to do so much as stand up, trudging to her closet. She had opted for a sweatshirt, seeing she only had two more clean ones in her closet, and made a mental note to buy more sweatshirts later.
Her cheerleading uniform was messily stuffed into the bottom of her backpack, along with her makeup bag, since she had planned to do it in the school bathroom before first period. She shucked her knapsack over her shoulder, the bag's weight slamming against her shoulder blade as she winced. She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the wall with a soft thump.
Her mind swirled back to memories of her and Luke in the kitchen, shoulders pressed against each other as they wrote the night away. Just as the memory had brought a smile to her face, it was wiped off just as quickly.
Luke was a ghost, and nothing was bound to happen between them no matter what. No matter how comfortable and safe last night had felt, a part of her still felt resentful towards the shaggy haired guitarist for tricking her into writing again; even after she made it clear she promised herself she wasn't interested in her past hobby.
With a huff, Dahlia had tried to forget the entire ordeal as she began walking downstairs, a familiar brunette coming into view.
Julie had been waiting for Dahlia at the bottom of the stairs, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes as she beamed up at her older sister.
"I was just at the studio, and Luke showed me this killer song. He said you guys worked on it together," Julie paused, clicking her tongue as her eyes shifted from the floor to Dahlia's, "I just had to ask...are you writing music again?" The younger sister questioned, sucking in a breath as she followed Dahlia, who had made a beeline to the coffee machine.
