THE DAY OUT **EDIT IN PROCESS**
WARNING: NOT SPELL CHECKED/MAY NOT MAKE SENSE
A rough night is always followed by a rough morning. Which, if everything is against you, rolls into a rougher day. By the time your day is over, it feels like you've been sanded down to nothing with the roughest sandpaper imaginable.
This is what the day after the Facebook post is like for me. Of course, with everything else being so swell lately, I should have prepared myself for the worst. But I didn't and by the end of the day, I'm ready to just give up. As I ride home in the front seat of dad's car in silence, all I want to do is dig myself a hole and never come out.
Ryden had plenty of advice, but is was just too bad that it was extremely had to follow. Sure following it sounded like I'd be served a life of rainbows, butterflies and ponies, but staying strong with everyone laughing and talking behind my back was all I could focus on. There wasn't room in my head for strategies. I just wanted the torture to end.
"How was school?" I break away from my stare out the car window and look up to dad. I'm still not exactly happy with him for grounding me the first time, but last night's visit to Mrs. Mitchells, even with an explanation, means that I'm grounded for longer and - that I'm even more pissed off with him.
"It sucked, as per usual lately," I reply straight out, "So you know, that only place where I'm actually allowed to be outside, is a living hell. I guess I have you to thank for that."
I notice dad's hands clench tighter on the steering wheel.
"Sorry I asked," he says through gritted teeth.
We drive the rest of the way home in complete silence. As soon as he turns into our driveway and the car is parked, I jump out, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and I storm inside. Running up into my bedroom, I close the door behind me and drop my backpack beside my feet.
I let my eyes wander around the room, before, for a moment, they land on the laptop that is still sitting upside down on the floor at the base of my bed.
Walking up to the laptop, I sit on the end of my unmade bed and open it. It takes a second, but the screen soon lights up. Ignoring Melanie's post, I go to the settings page and, without another thought, I deactivate my account.
After my talk with Noah, I was able to go to sleep for another three hours; after all, six o'clock in the morning was too early, especially seeing that I was taking the day off now. I wake up and roll on my side to check the time; nine thirty. With a yawn, I sit up and stretch, rubbing my eyes before blinking a few times so I can see clearly.
The first thing I see is Ryden in the reflection of my dresser mirror. He's sitting on the stool, his back facing me and he seems to be looking down at the things I have sprawled across the wooden dresser. I carefully and quietly move to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the same sweatshirt, which is now in a heap on the end of the bed. Putting it on, I stand up and walk into the bathroom.
For a few seconds I just stare at myself, before running the cold water and splashing some on my face to wake myself up. Wiping the excess water away with a hand towel, I look up to see Ryden. He smiles.
"Well, this is a better time," he says and I smile.
"A much better time," I tell him.
"Right after you went to bed, Noah left as well as your dad. So the house has been pretty boring for the past couple of hours," he says.
"Oh, poor you. I'm sure you found something to pass the time with," I tell him, walking back into my bedroom to pick out some clothes. I catch a glimpse of the fields outside through a gap in my curtains and smile when I see a blue sky and the sunlit green fields.
YOU ARE READING
How To Love A Dead Boy
Paranormal[editing-slowly] Despite doing everything she can, Lucy Ainsworth can't forget the night that she held the hand of the dying stranger, Ryden Mitchells. However; when she finds herself face to face with his ghost in her bathroom mirror, she's throw...
