Confetti, deflated balloons, and wrapping paper strewn across the room greeted me as I woke. I don't remember falling asleep.
Goodness, does my head hurt. If I weren't a minor, I'd be convinced that I blacked out from alcohol. I don't discard the possibility.
My father abruptly enters the room, the light swoosh of my door announcing his arrival.
"Good morning, my party princess," he says, his smile physically small but soul-wise larger than that of MOMOs.
He approaches me, a tray in hand. My eyes widen, curious to see what it holds. He lays it down. My everyday oatmeal.
Expected. But nevertheless perfect.
I stuff my mouth with the delicious gooeyness. I know that this has more sugar than what I am supposed to eat in my entire day, but I don't care.
My father stares at me from the corner of my bed, his eyes joyously fixed on me.
He truly does love me, doesn't he?
"Are you excited to be entering 12th grade?" he asks.
"Yes," I lie.
YOU ARE READING
Its following me
HorrorWhen a stalker becomes enamored with a reclusive girl, he faces a chilling realization-she has no social presence, no friends to track. What lengths will he go to in order to forge a connection? Unravel the mystery now! In the quiet suburban town of...
