Chapter 7

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I was to leave after nearly losing a foot and Jessica's beloved heel.


It was a huge mistake to try to explore the daycare when it was so dark inside. Neither one of us was gifted special night vision abilities. If I was, this exploration would not be a hazard and could potentially lead to the extinction of heels.


"Is your spidey senses tingling?" I followed him closely from behind.


"What?"


"You must have some supernatural gifts if you can see anything in the dark— You know there is no gifted school for those kinds of gifts here. No Xavier School for the Gifted... No Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar children. Here it's called a Psychiatric Hospital."


"I remember the layout of this place. I know where I'm going even in the dark."


"I can't remember what the place looked like and my mom owned it. You're cheating, if you're feeling the walls. I scoffed, "---I bet you are."


"The only person that's feelin' anything is you, princess. Grip my shirt any tighter and you just might pull a chest hair."


I stiffen. "I'm sure it won't take long to grow back." I made a disgusted sound.


"A week," he clarified. "A two days for a lil stubble."


I doubt he'd be fine with a small stubble. Probably would remind him of when he got his very first arm-pit hair.


Puberty is a really confusing time.


"So you done, explorer? I think I've had enough fun in the dark."


"Here. Just trust me, okay?" Derek reached behind his back and felt for my hand. His hand wrapped around my wrist then pulled me forward. Suddenly I was being pushed to sit down, I felt panicked being urged to sit in mid-air.


"Brace yourself."


I sucked in my breath, "Oh!" What the hell is -----


Something wooden cushioned my bum. "What the---?" I ran my hand along the wood object trying to guess what it was. I thought it could be one of those wooden crates used for storage. ---Something that was left behind when my mom packed up the building. Then I ran my hand along the wood behind my back and it almost felt like there was a wooden back rest. "A chair?" I asked him.


" 'Member the time out bench?"


"The straw colored bench with all those Christmas stickers on it?"


He inhaled, "That's the one."


"Weird." You'd think my mom would have taken the bench with her. I'm sure the bench was passed down to her by her own mom. At least I think it was. My mom doesn't talk about her parents much. Somethin' traumatic happened and that's all I know about it. I've never even met them.

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