The afternoon sun spilled golden light across the neighborhood as I approached AnnMarie's house, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and unease. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly mowed grass, wrapping around me like a false sense of security. I could practically smell the suburban perfection wafting from every direction.
AnnMarie's home stood proudly, a two-story beauty painted a brilliant white that gleamed in the sun, like it was trying too hard to be picture-perfect. The front porch, framed by vibrant potted flowers, looked like something out of a cheesy rom-com—completely inviting yet intimidating as hell. Everything about that house radiated warmth and welcome, a stark contrast to the mess of my own life.
As I hesitated on the doorstep, debating whether to knock or bolt, the door swung open to reveal AnnMarie, her face alight with a genuine smile that felt like a slap to my apprehension. "Hey, you made it!" she exclaimed, stepping aside as if inviting me into a world of sunshine and rainbows.
Crossing the threshold felt like stepping into a surreal sitcom, one where I was the reluctant main character. The interior was bathed in sunlight, streaming through large windows and reflecting off polished hardwood floors that gleamed with an unsettling kind of perfection. The living room opened up before me, adorned with soft beige walls and a plush cream-colored sofa, artfully arranged with colorful throw pillows that practically screamed, "Welcome to your happy place."
"Welcome to my humble abode," AnnMarie said, her voice playful as she beckoned me to follow her deeper into this pastel wonderland.
I couldn't help but admire the tastefully curated decor. Framed family photos adorned the walls, capturing moments of joy and laughter. Those smiles felt almost foreign to me, like relics from a museum I had no desire to visit. "Nice place," I mumbled, trying to sound casual while feeling a twinge of envy.
"Thanks! My mom loves decorating. She's always changing things up," AnnMarie replied, leading me toward the staircase that curved gracefully up to the second floor. The wooden banister gleamed, polished to perfection, and I noticed the gentle creaking of the steps beneath my feet—a sound that felt comforting and unnerving at the same time.
As we ascended, I caught a glimpse of a cozy reading nook bathed in sunlight, complete with a small bookshelf bursting with colorful novels and a couple of inviting bean bags that looked perfect for getting lost in a fantasy world. I felt a flicker of longing for the simplicity of such an escape, but that was a fantasy I couldn't afford.
Reaching the second floor, we approached a door at the end of the hallway. "This is my room," AnnMarie announced, swinging it open like she was revealing the crown jewels.
I stepped inside, my breath catching at the sight. AnnMarie's room was a vibrant reflection of her personality, painted in a soothing lavender that radiated calm—a calm I was far from feeling. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the window, casting a soft, dreamy glow that enveloped the space in a magical atmosphere. A neatly made bed, layered with colorful blankets and an array of mismatched pillows, beckoned with comfort, while a desk in the corner was cluttered with art supplies and sketches pinned to the wall, showcasing AnnMarie's creative chaos.
A few thriving plants sat on the windowsill, their leaves stretching toward the sunlight, thriving in this cheerful environment while I felt like a wilted weed. It was a room that exuded creativity and comfort, and I felt an unexpected wave of yearning wash over me—an urge to sink into this inviting space and escape my own tangled thoughts.
"Make yourself at home," AnnMarie said, plopping down on her bed with the grace of someone who had never known awkwardness. I hesitated, absorbing the vibrant atmosphere before finally settling onto the edge of the bed, trying to pretend I wasn't intimidated by the sheer normalcy of it all.
YOU ARE READING
The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (GirlXGirl)
Teen Fiction--- In the dead of night, Dylan stands on the edge of a bridge, her mind heavy with the pain she's carried for years. The world around her feels as distant and cold as the dark waters below-a mirror to the weight of her broken family and lingering s...
