[Trigger Warnings: This story includes themes of suicidal thoughts, drug use, and trauma. Reader discretion is advised.]
𝙸ɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴏҒ ʟᴏᴠᴇ
In the haunting melodies of their youth, Zephyr and Theo discover a love that transcends time, only to be t...
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"Watch where you’re going! Do you even know how to use your fucking eyes?"
I mutter in frustration, the sound barely escaping my lips as I push past the person I collided with. The sharp sting of my hangover throbs behind my eyes, making everything seem even more unbearable.
As I head up, I glance back at the person I bumped into. A girl stands in the hallway, her ginger hair catching the dim light from a nearby chandelier. Her freckles stand out vividly against her pale skin, and her eyes, sharp and accusatory, narrow into a glare. Her expression is a mixture of annoyance and surprise, and though she’s a bit shorter than me, she looks to be around my age.
What the hell? Who is she, and what’s she doing here at this hour? I scan the area for Nanny Anne, my gaze sweeping over the opulent, but now eerily empty hallway. The silence is punctuated only by the occasional creak of the old wooden frames, heightening my irritation. Where is she when there’s a trespasser?
"Hey, you! Who the hell are you, and what are you doing at my house this early?" I demand, my voice sharp. “Did someone call you for something?”. She doesn't answer. She just keeps glaring at me, her eyes narrow and hard. Her posture remains stiff, and the slight flush in her cheeks hints at her anger. What’s her problem?
“Hey, are you going to answer me or not?” I press, but she remains silent. "Seriously, are you just going to stand there and ignore me? If you don’t start talking, I’m calling the cops!” My frustration sharpens with every word. She still remains silent. Fine by me, she’ll be thrown out of the mansion, I think, my fists clenching at my sides.
