Love At War

Chapter 3

Okay, so here goes with part three of this story! I haven't had many reads so far :( although I would love it if people did comment and vote because I wanna know how the plot of going about with this story!!!

Pleasee comment down below and let me know how its going!!

P.S Dedicated to @Happiee for that awesome trailer she made in chapter 1 :D

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Chapter 3

The months had passed quicker than I had anticipated, finally leaving me to face with the forthcoming weeks of December holidays. In just three months, I had made three amazing new friends who treated me as though they had known me for ever. Also, the teachers adored me (most probably because I tend to get extremely high grades in the end of unit tests), which finally led me to reluctantly admit to my self that maybe I had actually settled in London quite well.

Well, I would have hundred percent agreed with that, if it hadn’t been for one spoiler alert. Charlie Mason; the most disliked boy on planet right now... Well according to me anyway. I couldn’t understand why he would give me cold looks whenever he saw me in the cafeteria, or why he would make snide comments every time I passed by him in the hallway. “Don’t think twice about it, he’s being stupid.” Amy had whispered to me once, after Charlie had blatantly made a joke about me in front of his friends. I had smiled at her and shrugged my shoulders to show her that he wasn’t affecting me at all, but once I was safely back in my room, I would let the tears flow continuously until I would cry myself to sleep.

But then, there were other days, where I would keep my gaze locked on him, whenever he tried to threaten me with those piercing blue eyes, until it was he who turned away. Those were the days I would feel as though I had accomplished something, no matter how little the deed had been. I hadn’t forgotten my promise. The lavender was still with me.

    At home, things were starting to get a little better... I guess. Mark had finally picked up on the fact that the days when I returned from the Sixth Form looking glum, tired and quiet, it would be best if he left me alone, and allowed me to approach him. But whenever he noticed a rare smile on my face, he deliberately took advantage of it.

The other day I had come downstairs after having a long, relaxing bath complete with scented oils and bubble bath and my mind was fresh. Mark noticed it instantly and grabbed the opportunity, “Right April, I’m glad you’re here.  I need a little help.” I had raised my brow at him, as he bought out a cute little Christmas tree from behind the sofa and placed it directly in the centre of the open fronted windows, and then moved it over to the left, placing it next to the sofa’s armchair. He had then looked at me, waiting for an answer. I had continued to stare at him with a blank expression on my face.

   “Well? What do you think?” he asked impatiently, the tone of his voice slightly irritating me. How on earth was I meant to know he wanted my opinion?  I just thought he was putting on a stupid freak show. I had shrugged my shoulders and turned to go back upstairs, and that was when it had hit me. All those days when he would ask me to do the dishes or hoover the house, or quickly nip to the corner shop to grab a bottle of milk for breakfast, I had thought it was because he wanted me to do everything for him, just because he was sexist. But now it made sense, and I had turned to look at him thoughtfully. Mark was just trying to make me feel included in his house; he was trying to make me feel as though I was at home. More though this was no different than my life in Manchester. It was there and then that I felt warmth in my heart, and I had wondered if families really did love each other more than they made it out to be. The blank expression on Marks face had made me laugh, and he had looked even more confused than before. We had decorated the tree after deciding that it looked best in the centre, with little red and blue balls and silver tinsels, finishing off with a big star to go on top. “Poor soul,” I couldn’t help but think, “I really will bring the death of him.”