(Elizabeth Olsen × Reader)
What measures would you take to ensure the truth remains hidden?
Out of the blue you receive an unusual envelope in the mail.
The contents of the letter reveal intimate details about a secret you thought were buried deep i...
Upon hearing the sound of tree branches rustling against the window behind me, lightning flashes across the gloomy sky, bringing a momentary spell of light into the room.
A glance at the clock indicates that it's a little past midnight and while my eyes drift past the digital red glowing numbers, I catch a glimpse of Luce, who's sound asleep.
I like to joke every once in a while that she could sleep through a hurricane. But It's only nights like this I wish I had that ability.
Back to wall, knees to chest, palms to ears, I chant a simple five-word phrase in my head.
'I'm not afraid of thunder' 'I'm not afraid of thunder' 'I'm not afraid of thunder'
If only there were an ounce of me that believed that was true. Way back when I was receiving court-mandated treatment, some lady I don't care to remember, said I suffer from Astraphobia.
I was sure then she made that word up on the spot just to frighten me and I hate to admit that it fuck'in worked. Thought I was dying of some rare ass disease or something.
My sentence lasted three weeks. I was to attend an hour, on every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, after school.
I sat there most of the time, just staring at the wall as she asked about my mom, about my dad, about what I remember from the accident. I said not a word until the day of our last session, one Friday night.
Sitting in the waiting room, for my father to arrive, I had curled myself up under a coffee table.
The skies were roaring, striking bolts of electricity in every which direction. Down on the pavement, a pitter-patter of raindrops splashed, soaking the world in sheets of tears.
After hours of relentless torment, the lady who had been assigned to me, had I guess finished work for the day and was headed home. She was the one to find me.
With faith in my father she called his cell, just to receive a pre-recorded voicemail greeting. I can't recall the exact message but I do remember the happiness in his voice.
It's hard to even imagine he's ever been that happy.
The woman led me back to her office and gave me a saf-t-pop. Green Apple. My favorite.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
