Mister Popular's Little Sister

twelve: silver letters

twelve: silver letters

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀My breath hitches at the sound of his voice. I watch as the black car just sits there with its lights off with no sign of life, but I know it's him. There's no way it isn't.

"Surprised?" His deep voice rumbles through the phone's speaker.

"Wh-," I swallow in order to help my dry throat. "What are you doing here," I hold back my tears. His voice brings back every horrible memory I try to hide.

"You know why I'm here, Marley." I can hear the smirk in his voice. "See you very soon," he hangs up.

The car roars to life and leaves quickly after. I stand there at the window my mouth agape, my heart pounding, and tears flowing down my face. I still hold the phone to my ear from shock.

The clicking sound of the bathroom door sounds and Ryland walks out talking.

"You're out of toilet pa-per?" She walks to me slowly. "Hey, are you okay?" I notice the concerned look on her face through the reflection of the window.

I shake my head no. I lower my hand from my ear as I turn to look at my best friend. You can't hide it anymore, Marley. You have to tell someone.

"I need to tell you something," I wipe my eyes before shutting my curtains too scared to leave them open.

"You can tell me anything," she looks at me sincerely before pulling me over to my bed. We sit down and I collect my thoughts on exactly what I want to say.

"You know how I told you how I moved to California because of my grandma and the assisted living ordeal?" She shakes her head yes. I had told her the first week of knowing Ryland. "Well, I lied." I blink away the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes. I then begin to explain the real reason I had to move to California.

"Really?" Her eyes widen as I finish my story. My cheeks stained in tears as I relived every horrible memory.

"Yeah," my voice hoarse once more. "And then a week ago when I was walking to the park I received two texts from an unknown number. One said that I looked just like my mother and the other said I didn't need to know who he was and that my hair looked pretty that day." I pull my legs to my chest before continuing. "Then I noticed a black car and it drove off. And then while you were in the bathroom, he called," fresh tears make their way down my cheeks. "He told me I know why he's here." She pulls me into a hug allowing me to cry.

"Marley," she rubs my back trying to calm my hysterical sobs. "You have to tell somebody," she starts, "not just me. Tell somebody who can protect you." She holds me tight trying to soothe me, but the fear overwhelms me.

It take about thirty minutes for me to calm down. My throat soar, my cheeks puffy, and my eyes tired. I quietly ask Ryland to shut my window as I am too afraid to walk near the window.

To lighten the mood, we put in Pirates of The Caribbean. Who doesn't love a good movie about pirates? Especially when there's Will Turner, the most handsome pirate to ever exist.

"I've got a jar of dirt! I've got a jar of dirt," Johnny Depp's voice echoes through the tv resulting in laughter from Ryland and I. That is easily my favorite line from the movie series.

At around ten o'clock, Ryland shuts off the television and makes herself comfortable in my bed. Not even five minutes after she turned off the television she falls asleep. Like into a deep sleep.

I turn off all lights and pull the covers up to my chin hoping to get some sleep tonight. I stare at the ceiling replaying his words in my head.

You know why I'm here.

And I do. I very well know why he's here, but I don't want to dwell on the thought.

Deciding that sleep isn't an option, I roll out of bed careful not to wake Ryland, though, there's no waking the girl. I clamber over the destroyed fort and to my desk. Turning on the little light, I slide open the bottom drawer removing layers of notebooks and colored pencils.

When I reach a familiar dark chocolate leathered journal, I silently pull it out returning every other item to the drawer. My fingers trace the silver imprint on the leather that reads Marley Anne Parker.

I remember when I first received this journal....

"Marley," my mother's sweet voice calls as she stands at the back door with her beautiful smile plastered on her lips. "It's time to come in, darling. I have a surprise for you."

At the word surprise, I quickly drop the muddy shovel I had been using to make mud pies and ran towards the French doors that lead to my home.

"What'd you get me?" My eight year old self couldn't contain my excitement. I bounced on my feet waiting for my mother to reveal my surprise.

"I'll show you once you wash your hands," she smiles down at my short self. Her blonde hair swept into a bun at the top of her head. She hadn't applied any makeup that day and that's the way I liked it. She's so beautiful that she doesn't even need makeup.

"Okay," I scramble to the sink and quickly wash my hands forgetting soap as the excitement filled me. A giggle escapes my lips as I race into the living room where my mother is sitting on the couch with a wrapped present.

I take a seat next to her eyeing the shiny blue paper that hides my surprise. My legs bounce in excitement and anticipation.

"Now, this present is very special. Mommy had one just like this when I was your age. You may not appreciate it now, but one day you will," she strokes the back of my head as tears form in her eyes. "My mommy gave me one just like this and it became a great companion for me. I hope that it does the same for you," she adds handing me the gift.

Without hesitation, my little fingers rip off the beautiful wrapping paper revealing a dark chocolate leather journal. On the bottom right corner inscribed in silver letters reads my name.

"Thank you, mommy," I marvel at the beautiful lettering

I use my little index finger to run my finger over the imprinted name.

My mom was right. I didn't appreciate the gift then. In fact, I had taken that journal and placed it in my desk drawer completely forgetting about it until she died. That's when I took up journaling writing every emotion and feeling I was experiencing.

I open the journal and flip to a new page. Grabbing my favorite pen, I add the date to the top of the page and begin writing my emotions and feelings. I write about the events that had taken place last Saturday and just a few hours ago.

I pour my heart into the journal. Once I finish writing, I return the journal to its rightful place before crawling back into bed feeling better that I had written out my feelings. I've never done good when I bottle my feelings. I think my mother knew that.

Pulling the covers to my chin once more, my eyes flutter shut and I succumb to a very welcomed night's sleep.

author's note

>:) muahaha I didn't tell you the secret. Ha ha ha ha ha.

But you now know that her move has to deal with him.

Hehe. I'm so evil. But not lotso evil. (;

Anyway, a surprise post (aren't all of them, though? Haha) because it's the last day of 2015. :o whaaaaat. Tomorrow is 2016 the year I graduate. So weird. :p

I'm always looking for excuses to post haha.

What did you think?

With love,

.j