For Now | Dreaming Trilogy | Book 1 (HEAVY CONSTRUCTION)

Phoenix | Still Beating

Oh, look. My heart's still beating. What a shame. The voices whispered through my head as I lay, staring blankly up at the white ceiling of my room as if it were the cover of a coffin. I sighed, closing my eyes to savour those last few moments before I woke up fully. Tuesday. One step closer to Saturday.

I opened my eyes and sat up, wrapping the blue-purple striped blankets around my bony body. "Don't wanna get up...," I grumbled to the nothingness of the room. No one in the house was awake yet, as was the life of most high school students.

I glanced out the window, covered in fuzzy-looking frost. The sky had taken on dark blue hues, and Venus - the second brightest thing in the night sky - was still visible. My eyes lazily trailed to the TARDIS shaped clock on my dresser. 5:28 AM. Two minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

I flopped back down with a groan, tossing my pale arm over my eyes. Two minutes wasn't enough time to fall back asleep, but what kind of seventeen year old girl would I be if I wanted to get up at such ungodly hours?

Didn't matter. My phone started buzzing and blasting edgy lyrics all too soon.

"There you go.

"You're always so right.

"It's all a big show.

"It's all about you."

Shut up! by Simple Plan was my alarm song of the week. I always changed it to keep things fresh.

5:30 AM. Far too early to be awake. The only thing worth doing was to sing along with the words and jump around until I no longer felt like crawling into my sheets and living there for all of eternity.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don't wanna hear it!" I jumped off my bed and looked through my drawers for something to wear. "Get out! Get out! Get out! Get outta my way!" I sang in tune as I plucked black skinny jeans out of the drawer. "Step up! Step up! Step up! You'll never stop me!" Out next was a light blue tank top with white lettering that read "lol ur not brendon urie" over the top of it. "Nothing you say today," And then a black hoodie with a basketball printed on the back and my name on the left arm in the same color as my shirt. "Is gonna bring me down!" I slipped the skinny jeans, tank top, and hoodie onto my body.

A gentle knock on my door pulled me out of my morning scream routine. "Phoenix?" Karen Nulligan's soft voice asked. "Sweetie, could you keep it down?"

"Sorry," I grumbled, turning off the music. Though I mouthed towards the closed door, Don't call me sweetie. I listened to the silent pause between us before she gave a quiet sigh and walked back down the hall to her room.

Karen, one half of my newest foster parents, was nice enough. She was short, wirey; liked Charles Mingus maybe too much. Her hollow face, marked with ever-deepening smile lines, kinda reminded me of a bird, though her blue eyes weren't nearly beady enough to earn that title.

Her husband, Steve, now he earned that title. He probably pecked trees with his sharp nose when no one was looking. He was fat, and the bald spot in the center of his black hair could probably said morse code messages into space with its reflectiveness. The only thing separating his look from the instant thought that he took too many opioids in his free time was the kindness in his watery, pink smile.

With a glance in the mirror, I realized I sorta looked like I took too many opioids in my free time. Pale skin, hollowed cheeks, baggy clothes, and a messy black and blue bun hanging to the right side of my head.

Sighing to myself, I set to brushing and straightening my colorfully dyed hair. Once I was satisfied with its spikiness, I carefully placed silver rings in the hole in my lip and nose. I swiped on some mascara. The darkness of it only made the silver in my eyes all the more noticable. Who had silver eyes? Me, apparently.