July 7, 2015
Dear diary,
I snuck out of the house while mom was cleaning the upstairs. My grounding would surely be extended but it didn't matter.
As usual, nothing did.
It was hotter than it had been lately and the sleeves of my shirt clung to my sweating skin.
I walked, taking my time to get to the bench where Elliott was already seated. I was half way there when he saw me, standing and pausing.
His hood was over his head as usual but his green eyes were brighter than ever, lighting up his entire face.
I instantly was feeling better. Until he rushed toward me, determination clear as day in his eyes, and roughly pulled my arm against him, yanking my sleeve up.
I dropped my book from my hand when he released my unharmed wrist and reached for the other one, revealing what mirrored his own.
He stared blankly at the torn skin and I was lost for words. How he had known was beyond me, but I was numb and hardly felt a thing any more, it seemed.
"Mia..." he whispered, running his thumb over the punctured skin. Finally I came to my sences and yanked my arm back, covering it back up just as quick.
I wasn't upset anymore, I had gotten it all out and my wrist proved just that, but when his eyes met my own, saddened and disappointed the tears surfaced.
He pulled me to him and hugged me tight. I felt small in his arms and I closed my eyes, content with the fact he was holding me.
I'm so sorry Elliott.
