𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 |𝟏𝟖+(HOLD)

V

"HEAVEN!" I feel a body crash against me, taking my breath away. "Get up! GET UP!" Amara screams in my ear, shaking me. I groan, grabbing a pillow and placing it over my face, wanting to fall back asleep, but I can't—not with someone lying on me.

"A-Amara," I mumble, peeking up from the pillow to see her dark brown eyes glistening with excitement.

"Come on, girl, it's the weekend—no work. Let's have some fun!" she says happily, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of bed, but I let her. Even though I've only been staying with Amara for a week, I feel comfortable with her now—I think. When she touches me, I don't flinch away.

"What d-do you m-mean?" I ask, puzzled, as she pulls me toward the bathroom.

"We're obviously going to the mall." My eyes go wide, and I shake my head frantically. I didn't want to go outside—not yet. I wasn't ready.

"Come on," she begs, giving me the best puppy eyes she can muster. "Look, we'll only go out for two hours," she says. Two hours is far too long, but nevertheless, I nod. Maybe I can do it.

She claps her hands happily before fixing both of our hair, hers taking longer since she has voluptuous curls that frame her face perfectly.

"Perfect! Let's go," she says, grabbing my hand as we head out the door.

                                        ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The car ride is silent. I'm practically balled up in the seat, the oversized hoodie she gave me drowning my body, but I don't mind. We stop at a red light, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel while she hums along to the radio.

"Look," she points toward a huge building flooded with thousands of people. I nearly faint; maybe this was too much for me.

"Amara, I-I don't know," I stammer, my voice dropping to nothing as more and more people stream in and out of the building.

"It'll be fine, I promise." I let out a shaky breath because I know she always keeps her promises.

She parks her car, then drags me to the entrance. She pushes open the double glass doors, and my ears are immediately flooded with the sound of chatter. I feel sick. My ears ring, and I want to vomit, but I can't—Amara would be embarrassed and wouldn't like me anymore.

"Come on, come on," she urges, nudging me forward. I take slow steps, taking in the array of clothes and shoes. I've never been to a place like this; it's big and too crowded.

"Welcome to the mall," she says, smiling at me as I take it all in. I don't like this place called the mall—it makes me uncomfortable.

"I d-don't like it," I stutter out. I hate crowded places.