Angel Eyed (DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

nine

My eyes fluttered open, the lights from my open windows entering my room, shining directly over to my face. I have forgotten to close it last night before I fell asleep with drool all over the corners of my mouth; I didn't even know why I was immensely tired. But who am I kidding anyways? I'm always tired, especially in weekdays when I have to go to school. I'm startled that my phone didn't even have to ring to wake me up. I was up all night reading those books Stella stole for me, and they're practically the only proof of realism upon that idea of her inside my head.

I grabbed the stray pillow that had fallen over the side of the bed, shoving it into my face to block the light from blinding my eyes, sinking back into the heavenly soft mattress of my bed. A sigh of relief escaped my mouth, the tips of my toes tingling in satisfaction as I rubbed it against the soft sheets. I had wished I could stay like that forever, but I was more than certain my alarm would go off in about two minutes and as much as I would love to stay there, I just couldn't.

The weekends have been the most uneventful days in my life ever since I moved here in Los Angeles. Other than the occasional texts from my parents asking me how I was doing, nothing else was in my phone. Not even Bill's messages, and every afternoon after lunch I would sink into the bean bag next to my window and read the last conversation we had. I almost sent him a message just to know if he was fine or if he still wanted to be friends with me, but then again Stella would be right and I would be that pathetic. Nevetheless I still yearned for the sound of the cute message alert from my phone whenever Bill would text me every two seconds.

I was beginning to jump into the conclusion that I hurt him real bad, which shouldn't be a surprise to me anymore. I could still see the miserable look on his face when I left him at the bus stop, and I can't help but hate myself. I don't even know how I would face him at lunch time. For the whole time that we've been friends, he was the only one who prepared food for me, so that was going to be awkward, and I have to think of another way to make sure I don't approach him like nothing happened; otherwise I'm going to look like the biggest jerk in the world. I don't want to be that kind of friend to him.

Suddenly the message alert from my phone went off instead of the alarm, my senses dragged away from slumber instanenously. I snatched the pillow away from my face and grabbed the device from the bedside table, sliding the screen as fast as I could, my fingers leading me to the messaging app. Just when I thought I was going to be directed back to mine and Bill's messages, I was instead thrown into another one. It was a text from an unknown number which displayed the numbers six, six, six and for the first time since I had drank that acid Chester gave me last friday, I was officially coming back to my stupidity of believing Stella.

Part of me fell back down to an abyss of disappointment. I sighed and exited the app, my thumb dreading to click whatever it was that further confirmed what ever happened last week weren't just my delusions playing with me. I didn't need to be reminded of last friday, in fact I hated remembering everything about it because those included my argument with my one and only best friend. I feel like shit just by thinking about it, I'm lucky I even got home alive.

The next thing I knew pain consumed the entirety of my face, the phone falling back to me as the realistic alarm clock noise blasted through the speakers, deafening my eardrums. My eyes shut in relex, my hands left unoccupied in the air. "Fuck!" I groaned, shoving the device back into the drawer as I held my face, carressing my forehead with my fingertips to ease the sting.

Still holding my visage, I kicked off the pillows from my feet and stood up, stumbling my way to the bathroom as my pajamas repeatedly trapped my toes in its long hems. I pushed open the bathroom door and grabbed the toothpaste from the sink, squirting a careless amount into the seemingly abandoned toothbrush laying somewhere near the tap. Without further consideration of how dirty it probably was, I placed it in my mouth and began my way in as I stood in front of the mirror in agony. As usual my hair was everywhere, and I could barely see my face from my lack of decent vision. I had wished I could wear my glasses in the bathroom, but the last time I've done so I accidentally stepped on it and broke it in half.