Don't Text Back

Chapter 4

I walked down the stairs and followed the sound of soft music into the living room. Inside, Rebecca sat on a white couch next to Amanda, giggling at something Amanda was whispering about. My gaze met a small radio perched on a glass table, and behind it, Dakota danced gracefully to the soft, slow music. I stood there in a trance. The song and the way she danced went in sync with one another, mesmerizing me.

"Do you dance?" Dakota twirled her wrist around while smiling at me.

I walked to a chair across from Rebecca and the glass table. "No," I admitted. "I'm a terrible dancer." My eyes fell onto Rebecca, but she looked in a different direction immediately.

Ameira walked out of the kitchen and up to the table, placing a tray of soft, warm cookies. She then poured each of us grape juice. After Ameira had sat down next to me, I took one of the cookies and held a glass in my hand. Ameira had herself a water bottle instead.

"Not a fan of grape juice?" I asked.

She and the other girls chuckled a bit. Dakota plopped down next to Amanda. "That is not grape juice."

I looked at the dark purplish, reddish, drink. It sort of smelled like grape juice. Not wanting to feel dumb, like I had for thinking it was grape juice, I drunk it. The liquid fell out of my mouth and back into the cup almost as fast as it entered my mouth. It burned my throat and was the most disgusting drink I had ever had.

"What?" Rebecca shot me a mean look.

"I'm sorry," I said, wiping my chin. "What is this?"

"Alcohol," Ameira frowned then walked back towards the kitchen. "Brachetto to be exact. I don't like it either."

"You've never tried it?" Amanda asked. "What kind of lifestyle did you have back then?"

"The strict, overprotective parent's kind," I replied. Ameira handed me a water bottle. I gulped down as much water as I could, flushing down the disgusting flavor of alcohol. I wondered if I would get drunk or not.

"Those are the worst kind," Amanda huffed.

I shook my head. Those weren't the worst kind. What about parents who considered an opinion to be talking back? Or when you had a suggestion, but that was regarded as a demand. Or when you were in pain but their pain was more important because they had "real" struggles and you were just a teenager with no "real" problems. Those were the worst kind to have and those were the kind that was hard to live with. Not having a voice in your own home is something, but not having your feelings considered hurt beyond words. I always had to face my feelings alone because what happened in my house stayed in my house, and if anything left my home, I'd be in big, big trouble.

"So, what do you want to do first?" Ameira asked. "We can show you the jobs and stuff around here."

"She's tired, look at her face," Amanda pointed to me.

I'm not sure if I was physically tired or just emotionally drained. There was a possibility that it was both. "I think I do need a nap," I said, suddenly feeling tired.

"Aw," Ameira frowned. "I really wanted to show you around."

"Hey, let her get some sleep," Dakota said. "She probably has bus lag."

Rebecca laughed. "Is that even a thing?"

"It feels like it," I laughed along but as soon as I did, Rebecca stopped smiling. Sighing, I got up and told everyone I'd just sleep for a few hours. I dragged my feet upstairs then plopped down on my bed onto the soft fluffy pillows. A bed had never felt so good. The thought of my parents started sneaking into my mind, but I quickly pushed it away before I would feel guilty and sad again. I closed my eyes, shockingly ready for a long nap. I wasn't even that tired before Amanda pointed it out.

So there I was, comfortable, peaceful, and free of any major worries, when all of a sudden, my cell phone started vibrating. I was thinking one of my friends left me a message, nothing major. It buzzed once, and that's it. Five minutes passed, and I was already halfway dreaming when it goes off again. Annoyed, I grabbed the phone to see who was texting me.

There was an unknown number, and the text said: 'Remember me or did you forget?'

Thinking it's just a prank text, I turn off the sound and vibrations on my phone. There was no way I would text back and play along with someone's boring life. I turned in the other direction and watched as the curtain on the window softly moved. I was glad I didn't have to see the house.

Wait a minute.

My eyes flew open, and I sat up. That was impossible. I got up and checked around the windows for holes in the wall. The reason I did so was because the curtains were moving. How could that be if the windows were closed? I touched them, looked at it and checked for anything crawling on the back, but it was all clean. I let them fall back against the window, and just like that, they stopped moving. I looked at the wall once more.

Weird.

Forcing myself some explanation, I blamed the space underneath the door. It didn't make sense, but I just went with it. On my way back to bed, I had a strange, eerie feeling. Like someone was in the room with me, standing over me, studying me. Feeling uneasy, I went over to the bedroom door and opened it. It wasn't dark yet, but I knew what would be the first thing to buy if we went out tonight. A nightlight.