Pretty lies

twenty five- dead shit

Isadora Rose:

I have been tossing and turning all night. The little light in the corner of the room burns my eyes. I can't fall asleep despite the fact I haven't slept in days.

Alessandro and I haven't spoken since our last encounter. I haven't really spoken to anyone since I arrived.

The thought of Mia and Santiago being out there, scared and alone, torments me. Tristan says they are looking for them but I don't trust these people. Not one bit.

The past few days has been full of horrible thoughts of death and loss with a hint of confusion surrounding everything. The image of my grandmother follows me everywhere I go.

I never saw the body.

I have never once questioned something abuela did. She was-or is a very logical woman. Every step was thought through and examined. Looking back, some of the things she did should have shown her past.

When we would go out, people would move accordingly. When we would go for drives, she would have a lock on her glove box. I never took notice. Of anything.

Everything made sense yet, at the same time, none of it did. My whole life had changed in a few hours and I can never go back. I can never go back to bar hopping or the school drop off without the fear of what will happen next. I want to be calm and spontaneous but, I can't even leave my room that isn't really my room.

Who would I even talk to about this? How do I say to someone 'hi, I'm now in the mafia and I think my grandma faked her death, do you want to dig her up or something'? Wait. I could dig her up.

No, it's stupid, right? You never hear of this shit because why would it even happen? This could all go wrong in a matter of minutes.

Imagine I dig up the casket and there she is, rotting and well, dead. But if she's not dead then this will be a whole new situation.

But on a serious note, who do I talk to about this? I can't dig up a grave on my own. I haven't worked out since like sixth grade gym class.

I could never dig up a whole ass casket with a body inside. Not like there wouldn't be a body or maybe there isn't. Who the fuck knows?

I could call Silvia because she has some really fucking strong arms. She can pick up both me and Frankie. It's insane. But she'd probably send me to a mental hospital for suggesting digging up a 'dead' person.

Amaya is a strong possibility. She goes to the gym all the time and she's even got weights at home. At home. The only negative is that she hates graveyards. She watched this horror movie one time and now she hates anything to do with dead people.

And Frankie- is fucking perfect. His dad used to be into all that taxidermy shit so he's cool with dead things. Plus he's equally as crazy as I am.

I don't have my phone on me. I left it in the apartment. What the fuck do I do? Frankie and I are close so I could just send a telepathic message and pray. Or I run.

Rico is safe here with Tristan, I trust him over anyone else in this house, in the house that I don't know the location of. I'm a big girl, I can totally do this.

I stand up from my bed and take a look in the mirror ahead of me. There are dark circles under my eyes and cheeks are starting to look hollow. I don't look like me and I hate it.

Life ,as I know it, is changing for the worst. No matter the turn out of this, it can't get any worse. So, fuck it.

I find my shoes, tucked away under my bed. Grabbing random shit that I might need ; a hair tie, Vaseline and a butter knife ,given to me for my dinner.

My room isn't too high off of the ground, maybe a floor or so. There is a tree opposite my window but, I've seen a shit ton of romcoms and I don't believe that I won't fall. That's not happening.

I have pretty strong legs so I should stick a decent landing. I pry the window open and it takes me a minute to gather myself before hopping out. I did i fact stick the landing so go me.

Those shitty romcoms can kiss my ass.

There is nothing left to do but run. Why am I running? I don't know. No one is chasing me but it just felt right in the moment.

The gates are the one issue I have. There are guards covering the lawn, towering over the Great Danes by their side. Slobber trickles down their face and I think I pissed myself at the sight.

My aunt used to have a Great Dane and two chihuahuas, so I'm pretty good with dogs. I pick up a stick from next to and lob it like a professional. The MLB should hire me at this point.

The dogs go running, their handlers trailing behind. I take my chance and bolt for a gap in the fence. If my hair was down, I would be totally fucked right now.

After managing to slip through the gate, it's fully dawns on me that I don't know where I am. I knew that before but now that there is not turning, it's real life shit.

A part of me wants to turn back, another wants to trust intuition and the last wants to do ip dip do. I end up going with my intuition and I head right since I prefer the word right over left. The word 'left' makes me want to projectile vomit onto the street.

I can't explain why but walking in the middle of a random ass road is quiet calming. I haven't been calm for a long, long time. Here I have no plan or problems. I am just a bitch with a butter knife.

This is probably going to end up being one of the worst choices I have ever made. I am probably going to hate myself in a couple of hours but that's okay. This is all going to be okay.

Oh fuck, there's a bird.