✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝕃𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕒 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕖 is adopted into her New England mansion. Despite the change in environment, her quest to find true love is unswayed. She keeps falling in love with the wrong people and getting her heart broken until she finds...
It was eight p.m. and I just had dinner. I didn't know why I got a prickly feeling in my chest when I walked through my bedroom door. Something about the air. Eerie.
Sometimes a gust of wind would pummel the of the mansion and it would shudder and groan. Turbulent, violet storm cooked in the sky. Frothing, steaming like Sandra's mother's delectable stew which she made out of cabbage, eggplant and mushrooms.
That note was still pasted on my desk. A strange note and three paragraphs in a diary that I was forty percent certain I did not write. That's all it was...right?
The diary lay in the vicinity of a wavering candle. Carefully observing the book, I sized up the potential for any incidents to happen if tried to write in it again. Maybe I really had imagined all of it. Maybe the last paragraphs were in fact written by me and I had blacked out. My recollection of writing it was, oddly, missing.
I was elated right now, I figured if I regurgitated my feelings into a diary I would calm down. I searched for any memories of the day that were worth remembering.
Sandra immediately called out this atypical behaviour of mine. She had asked me why I was smiling so much, to which I replied "I don't know." When she attributed it to the beautiful, sunshine outside, I nodded my head, despite knowing the real reason why.
Almada was my first real friend in a long time.
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I haven't made a single friend except for Almada and even in this case, I feel that she was the one making friends with me. Almada was so ravishing. She could go up to anyone and become friends with them and they'd instantly like her. A guy had already asked her out and she accepted because she was one of those people who couldn't be single for longer than a week.
Who knows how long we'd last? Everyone knows I can't keep friends.
I put the pen down and sighed.
Soon I went downstairs and made hot chocolate. The kitchen was submerged in pitch black darkness. I turned the ancient green tap on and it spewed water forcefully, making a monstrous noise. With the clunky water, I washed a mug and poured milk and I placed it in the microwave. Then I realised that while I was planning on making hot chocolate, I didn't even know where the mix was. I opened and closed cabinet doors and checked the fridge and the drawers. The milk sizzled in the microwave.
My head down a drawer, I heard a soft thud behind me, like a small bag of powder falling. Startled, I jolted and I spun around and saw that the door of highest cabinet which I couldn't reach was swinging open. The bag of cocoa powder lay on the countertop. Chills ran through my bones down to the pit of my stomach.
What just happened?
"Well, thank you." I croaked.
My mind was undeniably going haywire. Why on earth was I talking to no one?
