All Aurora ever wanted, was a new life.
A life, where she was able to escape her old world, run from her past self and... Dare I say, fall in love with someone good.
But... As we know, a new life still has its obstacles.
Especially, when it invol...
"She didn't know what it was about him, that made her heart stop... But whatever it was, she loved it"- Author.
Aurora's POV
"You know, there's never been a moment in my life when I felt 100% safe..." I state, feeling my eyes slowly drift shut. "Even though, I killed him when I was 9." I whisper, suddenly falling into darkness.
I gasp, immediately opening my eyes and I look around my room in shock.
Please tell me that was a dream... Exposing my biggest secret to Atticus.
My heart begins to race...
It's these moments, when I can't figure out what's real or not.
I gulp deeply, getting out of bed and I hesitate to go towards his room.
How do I ask him if last night happened? What if it didn't?
Suddenly, a footstep occurs from behind me and I jolt up, turning around.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, seeing Atticus right behind me and I put my fists up.
Aurora, why did you immediately turn into a boxer?
"Do you think you could knock me out with those tiny things?" He asks, placing my hands down and takes a step closer towards me.
Okay... True but rude.
"You didn't answer my question." I argue, letting out a sigh, and I sit down at my desk.
Honestly, the answer better be that we both fell asleep again, with no secrets exposed... Which wouldn't be surprising at this point.
"You fell asleep in my arms after your argument with your mum..." Atticus replies, while rolling his eyes and he sits down next to me. "Then I fell asleep, but you knocked me off the bed while holding my hand, so I slept on the floor instead." He finishes.
Oh... Well, not what I was expecting.
I cough in disbelief. "Sorry...." I awkwardly state, not meeting his eyes. "But, why didn't you let go of my hand or wake me up?" I ask instead, scrunching my eyebrows in confusion.
He has the strength to do it, and rudeness as well.
Atticus sighs. "You kept having nightmares, so I couldn't." He answers, fiddling with his fingers and he grabs a pen from my desk. "...We should continue our project." He states, changing the subject and glances at me.
Shit... Because of how much stress I'm going through, they're happening again.
People would say sleeping is good. Especially to get rid of stress. But, how can you sleep when you have nightmares about all the stress you've been feeling every bloody night?
It's like when you see a murderer coming at you in your nightmare. There's times where you'll try to scream but nothing comes out of your mouth... And, the knife plunges into you, grabbing every single breath from your lungs as you try to block.
You'd think it's all over but it's not... There's that worry that there's a murderer after you and there's nothing you can do about it.
And, sometimes it's true... But, the murderer is everyday life.
I slowly blink. "Are you not going to ask me about them?" I whisper, turning to face him and I grab a pen as well.
He must have questions like I have about him.
Atticus shakes his head, no. "It's your stuff." He states plainly, and fishes for a notebook in his bag, before scribbling.
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