And then, she laughs.
A beautifully melodic sound of amusement that bubbles from her lips.
As she bares her sharp teeth, the corners of her pink lips quirk on either side of her flushed cheeks.
The usual dark forest in her eyes brightens with warmth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Leah Parker
Moving to New York has taken my mind off things for a while. Like the fact that my parent's faces were a little dull after I told them about moving, how Scarlett didn't want me to leave, and worst of all, what happened at the so-called goodbye party.
I had told my parents about moving and yes, they were a bit hesitant but they reluctantly gave in.
They were happy as long as I was and they said it would benefit me, especially when I told them my plan.
New York City is two hours from Whitepeaks so I can't pop back down there to see my parents now and then. Although that doesn't mean I'm completely cutting them off and I'm never going to see them again.
I'm going to struggle to find time to go visit them.
Especially with how busy I'm going to get now.
Not only does my life feel chaotic and busy, my brain feels muddled. I'm feeling a galaxy of emotions and none of them have positive connotations.
'Cause whatever happened with Nathan at that party has me screaming, crying, and throwing up.
I never cry. I never scream. And I never throw up.
Perhaps I'm exaggerating but all of my emotions make me feel like that. I don't know if it's valid to feel how I'm feeling but all I know is that I don't want to feel anything.
I don't want the 'good' feelings to feel good because I cannot feel good with Nathan. I will not let myself feel like that because of him!
I think back to our feud, only realising our proximity.
His hot waves of breath crashed onto my soft, skin shore. His face was close enough to mine, that I could see every molecule of his flawless expression. His lean body pressed up against me as he dug that pierced my wrist, hungry with bloodthirst.
We were both so caught up in our rage, we never realised how close we were.
Surprisingly, the shard that got into my leg was a deep cut, I didn't stop bleeding for at least ten fucking minutes.
So because of him stabbing me (not hyperbole), I have a fucking plaster on my wrist and leg.
Some ugly ass plaster that doesn't tolerate fucking ink! I tried to draw a cute star on the plaster to make it look more tolerable but I accidentally smudged it so my plaster is now even uglier: with a big fat, black smudge.
Anyway, I punched him after he stabbed me.
What was I even thinking?
I'm not scared of him, I just regret punching him because the consequences won't be so merciful.
