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I wrote this story when young, it critically needs editing and correction which I'm trying to finish as fast as I possibly can. Either wait with reading it or suit yourself when you get to the 2017-chapters.
adore you,
x Michelle ♡
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Cold water hits my chest, my gasp followed by a jump that sits me straight up.
There's not one fucking part I hate about nightmares more than waking up from them. The sweat, the probable screams, the palpitating heart, all there for what? For absolutely nothing. I'd rather stay there, have a reason for all of it, than the aftermath that's thrown in my face as soon as I wake up. How I don't dare open my eyes, how my nails dig into my own flesh, the shaking, the paranoia, and worst of all, the attention and the inability to hide it.
"Calm down, it's okay, it's okay."
I claw harder at myself, jumping when I feel hot skin against my arms, wanting to puke and have a heart attack at the same time, not knowing if the reason is my nightmare or my reality.
"What are you doing here?" I coldly ask, pushing his hand off of me. I check my phone, seeing I've slept for solid eight hours. How did I fall asleep at four in the fucking afternoon? And how did I end up in my bed, the last thing I remember is watching Duke's and AJ's video gaming.
He realizes I'm not about to acknowledge the reason he stormed inside, but am going to keep my whole focus on how he was able to do it in four seconds.
"You didn't think I'd just ignore the way you left me, did you?"
Left him. I didn't leave him.
He gently grabs my ankle, stroking the hard bone on the side once.
"You really don't need to get your hands dirty," I push him off, getting up on shaking legs before he can tell me I worried him. I don't want him worried about me.
"Do you for a second think I'm gonna buy whatever bullshit you're about to give me?"
I will regret this.
Does it matter now?
Right now? No.
"Bold to think I'd give you even that."
I've pissed him off. I don't need my room to be illuminated to know that. I know the change of air. It's almost embarrassing just how well I know him. He's trying not to let things go where they went barely twenty four hours ago while I'm making it as hard for him as I can. I don't want him here.
Physically or mentally?
Not right now.
I might not be good at handing him stories he'll buy, but despite the changing of the path, I still end up where I want to; with him wanting nothing more than to get the fuck away from me. I shouldn't want it. I shouldn't. But right now? I do.
