𝕰𝖓𝖉 𝖀𝖕 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊 [ 5SOS ]

03. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝙶𝚞𝚢

𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

𝑰 𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 where, I'm sure, many other girls have passed by and sat laughing, crying, and God knows what else. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the bed behind me, feeling as always half empty.

It's been hours since Dove left the room and hasn't returned. That gave me time to pack up my things and "decorate" my side of the room with what little I brought from home. Because I am proud, I will have to share this space with the walking plastic doll.

I even bet it would be easy to ask for a room change, but I won't do it, not even over my dead body.

My eyes wander over to Dove's side and it's not at all what I imagined it would be. I have never entered her room back home, nor have I ever been curious because I thought it would be all pink and full of shiny, tacky things. However, what is in front of me is quite simple, minimalist even, and surprising.

Dove is pretty neat. Too much, I would say, and even in this we are different. I resist the temptation to bend a picture or pull one of her pillows further down and see what her reaction would be after trying so long to get them symmetrically placed next to each other. Ridiculous... She's going to unmade the bed in a few hours anyway!

The light from the lamps outside shines into the room, which is starting to get dark because I haven't turned on any lights and because it is close to eight o'clock at night. One of the beams shines directly on the multiple medals that are hanging on a cork board on the first shelf above Dove's desk.

They are immense and their ribbons have various colors.

I used to hear the comments that were made around school about how good Dove was at hockey, but I never thought she was that good. Because hockey is not really a girls' sport, right? Or maybe it is, and it's the sexist, macho society that wants us to think that it's all as they say.

I believe that humanity is lost, but I am quite pessimistic and find it hard to see anything positive in life.

The only thing that fills me with happiness and hope is music and often the refuge that a good book can be for me. At least when I read, I am not constantly whining about my life. However, I am aware that it is not music or a book that will save the world. If it were, we would all be safe, including future generations. And that is not the case.

Starting to feel claustrophobic in this space that has more of Dove in it than anything else, I get up off the floor with my butt hurting. I hide my purple bags under the high bed and watch my side of the room.

What took the most time in "tidying up" and "decorating" wasn't even hanging and arranging my clothes, shoes, accessories and bags in the small closet in the bedroom, because unfortunately I didn't bring everything with me, not everything would fit in there. It was, first, making the bed with a set of white sheets with black flowers and branches. And second, sticking my pictures with my friends on the wall and putting lights, Christmas style, on the