One Boy, One Chance, One Shot

Chapter 9

I couldn't study. I was in my bed, surrounded by five books opened at random pages. I had my notebook in front of me, with only two words scribbled on it: History Notes.

I put a hand on my head, balancing it on my palms while my elbow was on my bended knee. My eyes darted from book to book, and I wiggled my pencil in my other hand. I picked up words from one page to the other, and in the end got mixed up sentences that made no sense. I was in no mood to study. Normally I liked learning new things, but now I just couldn't be bothered.

"Aaaahhhh!" I screamed in vain. My voice echoed through the bedroom. In a matter of seconds I saw my hand throw the pencil across the room, hitting the closed pink door. I felt so frustrated.

"Why can't you concentrate Ashley? Why!" I pondered.

"It's because of that Jess hunh?" I whispered.

"I swear, I don't like him." I heard myself breathe out. I put a hand to my nose bridge, a tick I had established when I was nervous or hot tempered.

"Look. You have to study. This test counts for 50% of your final semester grade. You have to study." My calm voice once again vibes through the silent room.

"I can't study." I blurted out, almost bringing tears to my eyes. "I cant."

"Stop nagging you little bitch!" My inner voice spoke out. I stayed there transfixed by my own words. The very words my father said to me three years ago. I thought I forgot. But of course, how could a teenage girl forget the verbal abuse of her father? My mother was never there to help me, she was too busy with work, but I remember the days when she came back, crept in my bed, and sang me to sleep.

I put a finger in my hair, just like my mom used to. I fiddled with one of my curls, remembering the warm feeling it gave me. I missed her like crazy, but I had to leave that house. I couldn't take it anymore. It hurt me too much.

I got up from my book full bed, and headed to the kitchen for a midnight snack. I got myself some warm milk and some chips, and I nibbled them on my way back to my room. When I opened the door, my window was open. Strange, I didn't remember leaving it open.

A cold breeze fluttered through my green curtains, making them stand in a diagonal way. When the elevated, they almost covered half of my bed.

When the breeze settled, the curtains fell back down.

I gasped. There was a figure standing in the middle of my room.

His head was lowered, and die to the lack of light, his head was completely black.

"Who are you?" I said, frozen in place.

"I think you know perfectly well." He said in a calm monotone voice.

As his head straightened up, all the prices came together: Jess.

"Why are you here?" I said, my voice getting louder in the little room.

"You promised me something. Well, maybe not me, but my master." He came two steps towards me.

"Stay back!" I said, grappling a lamp that sat next to my desk.

"Ah. And you think you can stop me with that?" He said, daringly, "I think you can do batter."

He advanced faster, and with every step I could see that the tingle of his blue eyes was gone, and a soft yellow haze circle his iris. He was more toned than I remembered, and his skin glowed with a white tinge. He was creepily handsome.

"Why so silent Ashley? Don't you remember?" He stopped and tilted his head. "Sunday night? At the bar?" He advanced a step again.

"It was you." I said. "You were the one that made me shoot that man." I heard myself say. I shot somebody?

"Simple mind games Ashley, simple mind games. And you," he said, "only fell in my trap."

"Who are you." I said, taking a step back, and bumping my back against the wall.

"Your worst nightmare."