One In A Million

Chapter 4

All I have to do is clear my plate, because that's who I am. I stress over things that I have to do, but I stress even more when it's time to make decisions.

I walked back into my room in search of a pencil and one of my notebooks.

Just a random notebook, you ask? Why, of course not! I'm one of those people who writes stuff down to gather their thoughts.

And by "stuff," I mean everything.

Song quotes. Song lists. Famous last words. Little doodles. Short stories. Random thoughts. Random words from conversations I have or have had. Movies. Preferences. Everything. My notebooks are my illegitimate journals. But I don't call them journals, because they're not. And also because whenever I label something with any sense of permanence, I get bored and paranoid very soon after--- but I need these notebooks. So I call them my "notebooks." Creative, right?

I settled into my lumpy queen sized bed-- with my sparkly notebook this time.

1, I wrote...
1. Mysterious stranger: Johnson
•says I know him, TBD
• kisses well
• may or may not be in <3
2. Jax and Wayla
•they're together ???
• stay mad/hurt or be happy ???

I placed my list on my leg and reread it. Sigh.

Then suddenly I lurched to my feet and lurched to the bathroom just in time to be sick.

"Gah," I gasped.

I managed to rise into a frail standing position and ambled to the sink to brush my teeth. Maybe I just needed a shower.

I shuffled into my bedroom and scouted out some leggings and a sleeveless t-shirt. It's not until my hands were full with my underwear and sports bra that I realized that there was someone outside my bedroom window.

But this time, I surprised myself. Instead of feeling terrified like I should have-- because really, there's a possible murderer outside my window-- I felt more pissed than ever. I just wanted to feel like I was wearing trampoline pants. I was SO beyond tired. Too much had already happened that night and I had had enough.

I took a few steps and stopped about three feet from my window and, knowing it was locked, beckoned the person in.

"Can I help you?" My voice dripped sarcasm.

And then, suddenly and weirdly, the moon blasted from behind the clouds and shone one the person's face.

Lance.

My newfound guys faltered a little as I took an involuntary step back. How'd he find my house? He had been unconscious. I saw him. I caused it. I refused to show him my fear, though, so I inhaled through my nose and met his glare.

"How'd you find my house, dude?" I struggled to sound curious instead of demanding.

"You'll see," he smiled at me like I was a child being scolded and glanced at something behind me.

Then he stepped through my window -- through my freaking window -- and literally dissipated. He was gone. I spun around my room, searching for an attack, but there was nothing. He has truly just disappeared before my eyes.

"Oh man," I murmured, rubbing my arms to make the goosebumps go away.

And then I fainted.