Tell Your Friends [Martin Garrix]

Chapter 1 | ✓

I feel my phone vibrate, as I slowly open my eyes. I had a hard night, hardest of them all. Grabbing the machine, I enter my password, looking at the notifications. Five missed calls from a person, who does not mean anything to me. Not anymore.

I lazily swipe across the screen, pressing call. As the connection is established, I feel my hands starting to shake. Why did I even call him in first place?

''Hello?'' Cold voice, full of anger. It's too recognizable to mistake for another person. I have known him for too long.

No, I can not answer it. I can not open my mouth, it's too painful to talk to him again. I have to forget about it, forever. Never ever remember everything that happened. Just erase it out of my mind.

''Aline?'' I shiver as he pronounces my name with his uncaring tone. No, I am not going to stay like that forgiving girl I was.

Wiping off a tiny tear off my lashes, I end the call. I don't care about him anymore, he is in the past and I have to start a new life.

I lazily get up from my cozy bed, not wanting to do anything other than sleep. My eyelids feel heavy, as though somebody tied rocks to them. Walking to my bathroom, I notice that it's silent in the house, meaning that my parents are gone.

They never cared about me a lot. I am their only child and it feels like they never wanted me in first place. Whenever I have problems, they drive me to this posh therapist, but when they need help, I am always there for them. 

I look in the mirror, staring at myself in shock: I look worser than a zombie from The Walking Dead. I mean, I have got huge, black circles under my eyes and pale skin, which doesn't help either. Taking my blonde hair from a messed up plait, I brush through it using my fingers.

I brush my teeth and take a shower to wash away the events of the previous night. While scrubbing on myself with my body wash, I notice a few bruises which, I am quite sure, appeared only yesterday.

After that, I go to make breakfast. By breakfast I mean last night's coffee and anything that I can find in the cupboard. Luckily, I find cookies. I check onto Facebook and Instagram, looking at all the pictures of last night.

I shouldn't really look at them, because they wll ruin my mood, but I still do, because I am nosy as hell. Here he is -  black hair and evil smirk, hugging another girl. Marcus.

"Son of a bitch!" I scream, nearly throwing my phone to the opposite wall. How dare he do that to me? He always told me good things about how special I was to him and that he would never break my heart. As if! He dumped me like an old toy, too annoying to play with.

I stare at the wall for a second, thinking about him. I have to get him out of my brain, he can't stay there forever.

I go back to my room, switching on my computer. While it loads, I spin on my chair. My room is huge. As you enter through a white door, you see a window and my desk, which is where I am sitting now. If you turn right, you see my king-sized bed and a few bookshelves. If you turn left, you find two doors: one for my bathroom and one for my walk-in closet.

I absolutely adore my room, because it is mine. I did all of the decoration here and chose all of the furniture. I would never ever let my parents design my room, even if it turned out how I wanted it. This is my place, where I spend most of my time and I want it to be filled with my energy. 

My iMac loads and I enter my admin password. I log on to Tumblr and check Twitter, two of my favorite websites. As I scroll down my Twitter feed, I notice a tweet somebody reposted onto my page: