𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

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Jake is slayin' in this photo. #welikeitgreen.

~~~

Blaire 》

Turns out, it's a lot easier opening up to a stranger than a loved one. They don't know your life and they easily grow on me. They always have. Best part, they're not judgmental in the least. And if they were, they're strangers, why would you let their opinions matter to you?

Of course, I told him the normal, semi decent things like how my father could have possibly ate my mom and how my aunt disappeared and he's the number one suspect. Not the whole 'I have healing powers and that's why I never even thought of stitching my back in the first place' thing.

Literally the second best thing that happened to me today was bumping into Mark. The first best is-of course- Levi.

I got slashed by my father, black mailed by my classmate and I'm walking around bare foot.

I got my back stitched because apparently, acting like I know everything and just disinfecting the wound and covering it won't do anything. The pharmacists' words, not mine. He was a rude one and while he did put some of the numbing ointment on my wound after disinfecting it, it didn't do anything. The whole time I was there, I was itching to kick his jugular out. It felt personal how the numbing ointment didn't do anything. Poor Mark paid for everything, refused to tell me how much it was.

I was half expecting him to freak out due to me not being affected so much by it, but he didn't even gasp. How rude? That's just underestimating my pain tolerance and that's something he's going to get my fists in his nuts for. In all honesty, I thought it healed a little, but I was wrong.

But it still doesn't make sense how I magically heal myself sometimes and other times I don't. Does this power of mine need batteries or am I imagining stuff? Did I hallucinate the whole thing?

I don't like how that question keeps popping up in my head. Yes, I hit my head a lot but I'm not brain damaged enough to hallucinate.

There's one thing I know now, there's no doing school work and there's definitely no going back to my house. This tight cropped shirt and my skinny, low waisted jeans are gonna have to do for a while now since I don't have any clothes at Levi's.

He doesn't like it when I say it's his house. For obvious reasons, of course. But who else is it if not his? He still calls that house his grandmother's, but I don't point it out when he does. He inherited her house, some of her money and my sweet, sweet nonna gave me the other half of her fortune. Levi and i got split by the half. He inhereted millions since he's of age and, once i turn 18, i too will inherit millions. I'm finaly going to move out and start over. But i still can't fully asborb the truth. The fact that she put me in her will and treated me as a grandchild just like Levi made me relive her death all over again. Everyone has a different way of coping, shaming them for it won't benefit anybody.

I chose to remember her in the small things, it makes me feel like she's still with me. Sometimes I make jokes aloud because I know she would've laughed at them. When I bake, I bake for three just in case she wants a taste of what I'm baking. She always loved pastries and cakes.

I miss her so damn much, I'm still waiting for things to hurt a little less. I'm starting to think time doesn't actually heal anything, it's that by time you forget or get caught up in your own life that, not willingly, you start to forget the loss of the people you love.

The money stayed in her account, as soon as i turn the legal age, it's going to be transferred to mine and i can finally move out from my fathers house. I had dreamed of getting my own place far far away from my father for two years. This makes my dream become true. Makes nonna a much more vital person in my life, whether alive or not. She's still helping me from her grave.