SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
lies of omission
Her fingers traced two circles, a familiar symbol, repeatedly on the surface of her white vanity as her other hand repeatedly tapped a sweet tune on the back of her cellphone as she talked, even as the words came out of her mouth the girl found herself in a trance, contemplating life. A loose term. She wasn't quite sure she would call what she was doing if not merely surviving, that was a loose word to use too. She was drowning. Ironic considering she might just have to do that again with their latest mission.
Over the past five days, things had taken a turn for the worst. The pack had their ups and downs, more often than not, it came with the responsibilities they had been left with, the things that the group had had to do to be able to be where they were today. She focused on what she had been through the past five days, choosing to put aside the other seventeen years, he knew it all, there was no need to rehash that part of history.
After saving Liam and Hayden from The Dread Doctors and believing they were finally on track, there had been a shift. That was all she could think to describe it as- a shift. There was a lack of words for what was actually happening, a lack of understanding too. She wasn't quite sure how to word it, if there were any words to encapsulate the severity of this so-called shift.
"We all go to school, pretending like nothing's happened. But everyone seems to know. You just walk down the halls and no one's smiling." Kinsey described with a furrowed brow, as if her own words were like parcel-tongue to her. "No one's laughing. You get the feeling that everyone can sense that something's coming. They just don't know what it is, or how bad it's going to be." She sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know what to do. I don't think anyone does. I think that's why no one's really talking to each other. And sometimes we don't even notice each other." The girl chortled, a shake of her head as she questioned what she was doing.
She pulled the phone from her ear, looking at the name of the person she was leaving her rant to on his voicemail. Isaac. The name stared back at her, questioning her actions. He didn't care. He was in France, probably sipping champagne on their Parisian balcony before returning to being the person keeping her family's business running. Because she and Chris sure as hell didn't have the time for it. He was off looking for Kate with the Calaveras still, meanwhile, she was struggling to keep herself alive and sane. With a sigh, the brunette deleted the voicemail. He wouldn't want to hear any of it, she shouldn't bother him with her problems, he didn't have to deal with that, or her anymore. And that was her fault. She was the one who pushed him away, allowing him to go to France. Besides, the last time she had heard from her uncle he had told her that Isaac had one of his biggest gun deals yet coming up, perhaps that was why she hadn't heard from him in days. Not even a simple text to check up on her like she usually received. There had been nothing but radio silence between Paris and Beacon Hills. Everyone had been radio silent.
