Scars From the Past #Wattys2015

Chapter 3 ~ Voice Of An Angel

Chapter 3: Voice of an angel

-Tyler-

Saturday morning and it's six o'clock when I wake up. The sun is shining through the window of my room, flooding it with dazzling light and I find myself forced to get up, groaning and thinking how Mother Nature can be such a bitch at times. Sitting on my bed, still half asleep, I rub my eyes as I remember yesterday's events.

The mysterious girl now has a name: Amy Monroe, a name so delicate and perfect, it could be of a book character. That's a big step forward. But on the downside, she rejected me (well, sort of) and ran off again.

I really don't get it, she was so nice and courteous one second and completely rude and unapproachable the next. So much for "girls are not complicated - how hard is it to give us chocolate and tell us we're beautiful". Yeah, not complicated my ass. Pardon my french.

What is her problem? And most importantly, why do I even care? It's not like we're dating or something.

Suddenly I remember what Darin said, his words echoing in my mind. 'Dude don't tell me you're whipped already!'

Whipped, HA! Who does he take me for? Some prepubescent teenage boy who just found his dad's old Playboy magazines for the first time and is now drooling all over the pretty girls in them? Nah, son.

Letting out another frustrated groan, I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom where I wash my face with cold water in an attempt to clear my mind. But that's all it is; an attempt. As I grab a small towel to dry off my face, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I sigh, realizing I look like shit.

Whatever.

I trot back into my room, where, after glancing at my clock, I realize it's still too early to meet up with Ashley. So instead I decide to do some pushups and bar pullups. After only a few minutes I can already feel my heartrate getting up, the blood rushing through my veins and pumping in my ears. This is exactly what I need now.

Half an hour later, after letting out my frustration, I grab my jogging pants and an old t-shirt out of my closet and put them on. After I found my jogging shoes, I take my keys and walk out of my apartment, head down the stairs and out of the apartment complex I live in.

This is the point where I should probably tell you that my parents are pretty wealthy. They bought me this apartment after I graduated from high school. I know, I know. It seems a little bit exaggerated - okay, maybe overexaggerated - but it's an awesome place and since I'm not originally from California and didn't want to spend my college years in a dorm, it was the perfect gift.

Stepping out of the apartment complex into yet another warm and sunny day (who would have thought), I see Ashley already waiting for me to start our weekend the way we always do: an hour of extensive jogging.

"Good morning lazy ass, ready for some power workout?" she chirps cheerfully. "Meh, it's way too early to be in such a good mood," I rant at her but immediately regret my harsh answer when I see the hurt in her eyes. Like I said, I hate hurting a girl's feelings especially if that girl is my best friend. Sue me.

"Gee, how many spoonfuls of douche did you have this morning?" she harrumphs, scrunching her nose. "I'm sorry, I'm just in a bad mood," I sigh, looking depressed. Guess I didn't get all the frustration out after all.

"I see. Wanna talk about it?" she asks, looking at me quizzically. "Do I look like one of your girl friends? Cause I don't remember growing a vag-" I begin to say but she cuts me off by placing her hand over my mouth, causing the rest of my sentence to come out muffled. She rolls her eyes at me. "I got it, toughstuff."