Imagine loving someone who hated you, someone who loathed the very essence of your being, but... because of something you didn't do but had to take the blame for to protect the one who did. But then they too begin to hate you, even after everything...
That Saturday morning I awoke to the sound of trucks, vans, and a whole lot of shouting, which I found strange since our Neighbourhood was usually a quiet one, apart from the occasional break ins.
I got up and pulled a robe over my transparent nightgown and stumbled over to my french windows where after drawing back the curtains and then opening the sliding doors, I stepped onto my balcony.
Had the neighbouring balcony always been this close to mine? All I had to do was take a jump so small it didn't even qualify to be a jump and then bam! I'd be in the neighbour's house.
The Manor had been unoccupied for years, so imagine my surprise when I saw people moving in! I needed to see this, so I turned around and was about to go back into my room when a voice called out to me.
"Scarlett?"
I stopped and turned.
"Michael?!" I exclaimed.
I went closer to the balcony railing.
"Mike, what are you doing here?" I asked.
"We're moving in. What are you doing here?" He asked, as surprised as I was.
"I've lived here since forever."
"You're a New Yorker?"
"Born and raised," I said proudly.
"So that's your room?" He asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Ah, heck, now I wish I had taken this room before he did."
I tilted my head to the side, confused.
"Huh?"
"This...this isn't my room. It's...it's—"
"It's mine."
I looked behind him, my gaze locking with Michelangelo's amethyst eyes, and in my head I was like, 'Of course it's your room.'
Michael looked at me with apologetic eyes.
"Mother is looking for you, little brother," Mikey said coldly.
Michael shot me one last glance, then left.
Then, as if on cue, a strong gust of wind blew right at me, blowing off my robe and leaving me standing before him in a transparent nightgown and nothing but my black lace panties under them. I blinked as the realization that he could see my boobs sunk in, and as you probably guessed his eyes had already found their way there.
I felt the heat rush to my face, and I turned around and hurried back inside, slamming the door shut. If sliding doors could be slammed.
After a nice, long shower, I was refreshed and ready to tackle the day of lazing around in the garden. Dad had gone to work early that morning, and we'd already had breakfast. It was almost eleven now.
I was in gray sweatpants and a white shirt as I walked across the lawn in the backyard and past rows of flowers. Our backyard was kind of like a small forest, and there was even a lake in the middle of the trees where Mom had had benches put up and hired people to make sure that the water remained so clear you could see the bottom of it.
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