The Ghost Girl, Living In My Room.

Chapter Eleven

                                                                         --CHAPTER ELEVEN--

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.

                                                                                Dylan Kamp

Back at home, I watched my mother pace up and down my bedroom as she expressed how mad at me she was, the school rang my mother and told her about how I 'almost killed' a guy-they made it sound like the person was unable to fight back or incapable of stopping me. The moment she got off the phone with them she came down to the school and picked me up and now here I am, sitting on my bed-wondering where Rose was-as I watched my mother describe how my punishment was going to go. My mother waved her hands about a little and even wagged her index finger in that disappointed parent way that always made me feel like crap. I'd given up on telling her how sorry I was and that I wouldn't let her down again but that would just be me telling lies, I wasn't finished with Mike.

'Are you even listenin' to me?' Mom demanded, narrowing her eyes at me and crossing her arms. I grunted a reply, I was in huge trouble and for some reason, I just couldn't careless. 'You know what?-You don't leave this room until I get back from work, got it?'

''What if I need the bathroom?' I smugly retorted, leaning back onto the wall behind my bed.

''I'll go fetch you a bucket' Mum grinned bitterly, before closing the door behind her. I gaped at the door and threw a shoe at it before laying down on my bed and gazing up at the ceiling. Stupid Mike, Stupid Principal for telling the receptionist to call my mother, stupid receptionist for listening, stupid Mom for fetching a bucket.

'Fetching a bucket for what?' A familiar voice questioned, I looked up hopefully and saw Rose sitting on my study desk, swinging her feet and gazing down at her floor. She raised her head and smiled mischievously at me.

'Never mind,' I grinned, getting up off the bed and going over to the desk and sitting on the chair. I looked up at her and my grin got bigger. 'Have you been travelling again?' I asked, leaning forward in my seat as I prepared for her story.

'Yes!' Rose beamed, grinning back at me. 'I went to go and look for my parents-with the help of Levi of course' She then frowned and pursed her lips. 'My mother she...she's so beautiful, she has a new family now-in London-she looks really happy, her name is Martina and she's everything I pictured her to be' Rose hopped off the desk and walked over to the bed and paused. She tapped her foot on the floor, she then muttered something under her breathe and shuffled over to my closet and tapped her foot again causing the floor to make a hollow sound. Rose smiled out of relief and looked at me expectantly.

'What?' I muttered, standing up and tapping my foot in the same area, the floor sounded more hollow when I did it. 'Something's under there..'

'Yes, I know' Rose said, crouching down on her feet. 'Try and pry it open..'

I noticed that there was a small gap between the floor boards on the floor, I lifted it up and pryed it open. The floor board easily came off and I put it aside. I fanned all of the dust out of my face and peeked into the hole. There were rolls of paper and a small tin box, I took the papers out and unravelled them. 'Be careful' Rose insisted, chewing her bottom lip. 'They're really old'

I carefully opened the paper, it was a painting, judging from the quality of the drawing it had to be done by a five year old-or younger. I put the papers down and opened the tin box, there was photographs and a small bottle of bubbles. 'What's all this about...?' I asked Rose in a whisper as I flicked through all the photographs.

 'My mother and I were really close, she used to buy me a tub of bubbles every Saturday and she'd take me to the park and play with me on the swings-my father was too busy with his job to care-one night when I was about five I overheard my parents arguing something about something not being right and that someone's parents must be missing them and then the bubble bottles stopped coming and one day my mother stopped returning home' Rose explained as she looked over my shoulders at the pictures. There was one of a toddler Rose blowing into a plastic stick and another of a dark haired woman, kissing Rose on the cheek as she giggled into the camera lens.

'What's with all the paintings?' I asked, looking at the paintings, it was three stick people, one of them was-what it appeared to be-crying and another one was holding the smallest one's hand and they both had little squares in their hands.

'That one, is basically my father crying-because my mother is coming back to get me and those are my suitcases and that's the door..' Rose described, the picture started to make more sense. I put the painting back in the hole and looked at the other one. It was a lady stick person and she had long brown hair and she was wearing...a dress and peeking out the window of a tower. Rose giggled before explaining that 'Well, that's how I pictured my mother, after I started to forget what she looked like, I painted this one when I was seven, I pictured her as a Princess who was trapped and needed to be saved'

'What made you think that?' I asked her as I rolled up the picture and put it back in the hole, I started to pack everything back into the hole and returned the floorboard before my mother comes in and started to rant and rave about the mess I've made.

'Well, my father used to tell me that my mother was a princess and we were keeping her trapped here, and she found her prince and he came to take her away from us-and one day she'll return for me so that I could live in her castle' Rose informed me, looking at the floorboard. 'I thought she was like Repunzel and she finally let down her hair and broke free..'

'Hey,' I mumbled, bending my head down to look at her. 'It wasn't your fault, your mother leaving was her own decision, it was her loss and you want to know why?' Rose lifted her head to look at me, I continued 'because you grew up into a beautiful, kind-hearted girl that lights up the room the moment she steps foot in there, trust me, Rose, it's her loss'

 'Do you really think that?' Rose asked, looking me in the eye. It was almost as if she didn't expect me to say something like that. To be honest, I didn't expect myself to say something like that, is that what happens when you let your heart talk instead of your head?

'Yeah...' I breathed, wishing I could hug her.

Sorry, that was so short but I suddenly came up with a much better idea with Rose and Dylan's relationship-with the help of the person this chapter is dedicated to :) This story is NO longer cancelled!! Daisie xoxo