x. peace
'see we've all got something that we t r a p p e d inside
that we try to suffocate, you know, hoping it d i e s
try to hold it underwater but it always s u r v i v e s
and then it comes up out of nowhere like an evil s u r p r i s e
then it hovers over you to tell you millions of l i e s
you don't relate to that? must not be as c r a z y as i am...'
(nf).
>>>
gianna
None of my friends have answered my texts.
And I know I shouldn't be mad.
I mean I'm not.
Like I'm just...
A little upset I guess.
But it isn't new, you know?
I sit on the edge of my bed, holding my phone, scrolling through all my messages, all of which I have been the last person to respond to.
It shouldn't hurt me, but it does.
I know I'm a bitch, I know people whisper horrid things behind my back. Most of the time, it didn't bother me. I don't have time to dwell on little girls who don't know me. I have fabulous places to go, people to judge, revenge to plan, and I can't do it all in 24 hours.
But there are moments, moments like this where I feel as if I am the loneliest girl in the world.
I stare at my phone screen and finally shut it off, tossing it on the bed.
Whatever, G. They just don't know what they're missing.
I try to reassure myself, but the tiny voice in my head tells me I'm wrong.
It's their loss, I argue inside my head and then manage to shrug it off.
It's in that moment that I have been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, lost in my melancholic thoughts.
What the hell, G? I tell myself, You are a queen. A goddess.
I flop back on my bed, starting to think that I'll end the night with a nice shower in which I'll come up with a way to get revenge on Timothy Rayne for what he pulled the other day.
Making me be noticed by the Mr. Rochester incarnate, Mr. Thompson.
Yeah. I hadn't forgotten that that day was in fact Timothy's fault.
Luckily I only have one class a week with Mr. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, so I haven't seen him since. I have, however, seen Timothy around in a few of my classes.
He's kind of a loner. Pathetic, honestly.
When my phone dings with an in incoming text, I immediately sit up.
I sit up a little too fast and the world goes blurry for a moment, but my hands still blindly find my phone.
When my vision clears and I see the notification, I laugh bitterly and toss my phone back on the bed.
YOU ARE READING
twisted beautiful things
Mystère / ThrillerThe leaves hadn't even turned brown before the first suicide of the year. At St. Briar's University, the stakes are so high that at least one suicide is expected. In a world full of privilege and royalty, poison and snakes, students are expected to...
