𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

58a°/ Confrontations

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I am soooo excited to dish out this chapter that I just couldn't wait till Tuesday 😩😩😩 I think y'all would LOVE it!😩🔥🔥🔥

~DABI~

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

Only God knew how many times I had said that prayer over and over and over again, since it had dawned on me over and over and over again that Marcus' friends had seen me today.

They had SEEN me! 

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

What was going to be the outcome of this?

What if they told people from School about us? What would I do then? How would I explain it to the entire population of Castron High that Sean Ayomide and stupid JJ saw me hiding behind the couch of Marcus Acha's living room?

How? What kind of reasonable explanation would I give them?

I was indeed, inarguably doomed. Completely in peril. Peace of mind and tranquillity was never going to locate me at this rate. My classmates were not going to just kill me, they were going to use my grave as a dinner table, as well. I was doomed forever!

All the way, Marcus had been coming over to see me and try to calm me down and assure me I was overthinking. He was the one under thinking, he knew how our classmates could be! Worst of all, after coming about two to three times, he disappeared on me. That was it! He left me to face my doom alone! He left me to wallow alone in my misery, he was never going to come back!

The time was 5: 07 pm, and each minute took an infinity to pass over, and that just made things worse. Gave me more time to suffer.

And, damn it, I was so hungry.

Marcus couldn't even get me food!

If I come out of this alive, I was going to break up!

"I have to help myself." I came to that realization, as I gently came down from the bed, and landed with my feet onto the tiled floors, shrieking right after as I stepped on something that felt so stringed, yet mushy and disgusting.

"Ew! What is that!" I jumped and landed back on my bed in horror, gaping at the not-empty nylon on the floor that I had stepped on, and I grimaced in disgust and irritation as I looked onto my feet to see what looked like stains of salad and cabbage and tomato sauce on the heel of my feet.

Dabeluchi, what is all this?

This was remnants of the Sharwarma from Last Night that Marc had gotten for me.

I had forgotten to dispose it properly.

Hence, this.

"I have to start trying, at least," I muttered to myself in realization, "I can't be such a slob at home, and in someone else's house."

With that, I did something I had never done before in my life.

I cleaned.

I started to pick up all the things I had disposed onto the floor, one by one, and even searched under the bed to see what I may have left there as well. I arranged the bed, the cupboard, my school notebooks and textbooks, and my uniforms as well, and surprisingly, I didn't stop until I felt it was neat enough.

I wasn't sure what the source of my inspiration was, but whether it was the Sharwarma tinfoil or the fact that the scent and cleanness of Marc's room was incredibly and beyond impressive and just inspiring, but I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.