the rewrite is out; read it instead please :)
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"I want you and you want me, so what's the harm, babygirl?"
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She was the "bad guy" of the school, if you will. Me, on the other hand, was what...
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^ Hope's Outfit
A/N Grab some tissues...
Hope's POV Sunday, November 8th
Knock. Knock.
"Go away." I yelled through my pillow.
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come with us to... well, you know..." Aidan trailed off.
"I'll go later. By myself." I mumbled.
"Okay, well we'll be back in an hour or two. Maybe three."
I heard his footsteps drift down the stairs and a couple minutes later, I heard the front door opening and closing. I heard the engine of a car and then the car drove off. I rolled over, laying on my back and stared up the ceiling. I angrily wiped at the tears that were now flowing down my face at a rapid pace.
I promised myself. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry. I fucking promised myself that I wouldn't cry today but here I am, tears flowing down my face like they're Niagara fucking Falls.
I sighed as I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest, and resting my head between my knees. This always happens. I promise myself that I won't cry today, but I always crack and end up crying for hours on end.
I just miss him. I miss my dad so fucking much. He was my best friend and would listen to me when no one else would. He'd always do little things to make me happy as well. He didn't deserve to die.
"Daddy! Come here!" I whined.
He rushed over and kneeled beside me. "What is it, sweetie?"
"I-I scraped my knee! I-it hurts." I cried, pointing to a red scrape on my knee.
He leaned forward and placed a little kiss on my knee. "Does it feel better?" I nodded my head, tears running down my face. He used his thumb to wipe away a few of them. "How about we go get some ice cream? How does that sound?"
I nodded my head eagerly. "I-I would like that!" He smiled largely and ruffled my head. He stood up and held out one of his hands. I put my hand in it and he helped me off the ground. "Let's go, princess."
He was the first person who I told that I was bisexual. I was eleven at the time. The year before he died.
"Dad? Can I talk to you real quick?" I asked nervously, moving the pendant on my necklace back and forth. My dad knew I did this when I was nervous. His face quickly turned to one of concern as I sat down on the couch beside him. Luckily, we were the only people in the house.
