After his parents' sudden death, Chester Covington leaves everything behind and moves in with his aunt.
But nobody knows what is going on behind the facadé of a traumatized boy who has watched his parents die that he puts up ever single day of his...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I toss around again, feeling frustration bloom in my stomach. Letting out a low groan, I press my head into my pillow.
I can't sleep. Again.
My thoughts are too loud, too tempting to think about. Every time I start thinking about something, I cannot stop. So many thoughts pop up in my head at night; ones that I'd never think about at day. They only come at night, preventing me from sleeping.
I'm so desperately craving peace for at least one night, just one. I want to close my eyes and drift away into a pool of silence and peace, yet I cannot even let my eyelids drop without either seeing a memory that I do not want to see or having a new thought pop up in my head, forcing me to lift my eyelids again.
I sigh, my ears focusing on the sounds from the room right next to me. Behind the thin wall on my left there is Chloe's bedroom, out of which soft snores fill my room.
How lucky she must be, falling asleep so easily. It would be so nice, not waking up in the middle of the night, thinking you were dumped with water, only to realize that it's your own sweat that your sitting in, not water. Or not tossing around on your bed until it starts creaking under your weight, breaking the silence that is engulfing the room with its annoying creaking and squeaking.
Yeah, that must feel good. Waking up with sun warming up your face, no dark bags resting under your eyes and feeling energetic enough to start the day. What a luxury that'd be.
I turn around once more, feeling my legs numbing from lying too long in the same position. My eyes feel heavy and droopy, but my mind keeps them wide open, as if there were someone forcing me to do so.
One of those many thoughts though, is Riku. He just keeps popping up there, invading my mind, bringing me back to the conversations, if you could even call them that, I shared with him. My senses also seem to remember him very good, because I can still feel his scent penetrating my nostrils, reminding me about it every time I inhale through my nose. And even though it is faint, it is there.
Or his hands. I can still feel a tingling sensation on the lower half of my back, exactly where his fingers had laid, intertwined with each other.
Another frustrated sigh leaves my mouth. Numbers. I should count. Maybe that'll help.
I put my hand under my cheek which is resting on my pillow, and force my eyes shut. I start counting in my head, forcefully pushing all the other thoughts away. 1. 2. 3.
I feel a yawn building up in my throat, but I still keep my eyes closed tightly, knowing that yawns sometimes make me open them. When it slips out of my mouth, I continue counting. 4. 5. 6-
