◣✦◥▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔◤✦◢
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬-𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡
the letters ( pt.1 )
◤✦◢▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁◣✦◥
NOVEMBER COULDNT HAVE MOVED ANY SLOWER.
Isla had shut herself off from the rest of the world as soon as it hit midnight, signalling that November had officially started.
There were two things the young brunette had hated about this month. The first was that it was her birth month, meaning she had wasted another year of her life and the other being the anniversary of her mother's death. She had never gotten to visit her grave after a certain point, always too far to even consider such a trip but this year she could finally see her mother's grave for what it was.
She imagined it to be overgrown ivy and uncared for, vines spiralling around her faded name as beetles ran over them. Maybe some trash was thrown around it, letting flowers bloom inside the discarded bottles or even if her mother was lucky, leaves would've left a warm bed on top of her gravestone.
No matter how uncared for the grave was in her mind, she couldn't help but imagine it as beautiful because that's what her mother was. Inside and out.
And that's what she did for the first two days of November, imagine her mother's grave because that's all she could do. Her bed, being her only place of solace, had never felt comfier and her heart had never hurt more.
Three soft raps sounded throughout the room but Isla dimmed them out, too caught up in her sorrow to acknowledge the said person. The raps became much harder and more urgent until they had finally given up, the door opening with a loud swing and a silent curse.
Isla sighed heavily, letting her pillow wipe away her makeup from Halloween as she groggily turned in her bed. "What?"
"You've got mail." Ezra smiled, holding up a single letter in his hand.
Isla groaned as she rolled back to the other side of her bed. "Throw it on the dresser." She lazily mumbled into her pillow.
She heard Ezra sigh alongside loud plop, most likely the letters that she had interrupted to be thrown on her
"What are you still doing here?" She said irritated.
"Isla do you take me for a good guy?" He asked suddenly, barely cutting her off her sentence.
Isla furrowed her brows. "Depends, you did eat my cereal last week and blame it on Cecilia."
"Answer the question."
"You're great."
"Raz sent—"
"Oh my god," She said exasperatedly, sitting upright in her bed as she faced Ezra. Her eyebrows were deeply knitted into her forehead as she glowered at the older boy. "Would you just leave me alone?"
A soft frown landed on Ezra's face, "Right, sorry."
The door clicked softly as Ezra left the room. Isla would've felt bad for her choice of words if she wasn't so down in the dumps over every little thing going wrong in her life.
YOU ARE READING
FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER
Fanfiction"You can't just fight Flash Thompson in the middle of class?" "Yes I can, and you're going to watch me!" ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── In which a discarded foster kid with severe familial and emotional issues and a special power fa...
