Striking Lies

Chapter Forty-one: It means a lot to us.

I'm back!

Enjoy this Chapter, I absolutely love this.

By the way! -------->

See that video over there, the one from Youtube?

I made it, with real footage.

Enjoy that one as well.

Chapter Forty-one:

                           The sun gleamed brightly through the cracked windows, glaring into my closed tired eyes. They opened instantly, sending blaring light into them and then allowing my mouth to squeal as I begun to shift the covers over my head.

I twisted on top of the bed, growing closer and closer to the edge of the bed. The springs rattled underneath me, causing confusion to enter my mind along with a thudding headache. I rested my head on the flimsy pillow, creeping my eyes open as I searched for my alarm clock from Andrew. Everything in my vision was blurry, framed to a foggy point of view and I could only make out close objects nearest to me; but even they wern't the clearest things.

I slowly lifted my head, squeezing my eyes together tightly as I attempted to make sense of the mysterious figures that were glued to the wall. My vision was slowly coming back to me, finally beginning to take notice of the corners of the posters becoming more and more crisp. I studied the surrounding, how furniture was placed, how the lighting was dimmed at different locations of the room. The walls were painted black, which is quite odd because my walls are painted yellow, the floors became suddenly carpeted to a grey and the sudden three doors along the walls stood out most to me.

I sat up quickly, bringing my hand to my eyes and rubbing them with my fingers to reduce the lingering foggy images. This wasn't my room I grew up in, oh no it wasn't. This was the room across the street from mine. I remember Damon's old room had a light coat of white plastered on the walls, his doors made from new wood and all of his furniture handle some sort of brown on them. But now, it was like people from Clean House came and fixed his room to look actually modern.

"Damon?" I said loudly, tossing off the covers and grimacing at the sleeping Damon on the floor. I kicked him with my feet, still yelling his name and watching as he attempted to swipe the ongoing 'pain in his back' away from him. He groaned after every kick, until he finally gave up and grabbed my ankle, pulling me off his bed and onto the carpeted flooring.

I tumbled down on top of him, a bit happy when I knew my elbow went into his back and fell along next to his injured self.

"Must you always hurt me?" He grumbled, beginning to turn so he was laying on his back. He brought his hand to his forehead, leaving it there relaxed as he stared up to the ceiling.

"You brought it on yourself."

I flopped back up, sitting on my legs before I noticed the bottles of beer laying all around the floors and the bed. It was as if he owned a company the refills used beer bottles with some scam of a drink. They were littered and scattered all around the room, on his desk and believe it or not teetering on his window seal.

"Really? How much did you drink!" I screeched at him, half hurting my head as i did this. I watched him begin to lean upon the bed's side and rub his eyes roughly. He shook his head, bringing his eyes up to mine and then showing a sly grin on his face.

"Maybe you should ask yourself, Miss. Jack Daniels." He said to me, bringing some sort of humor to him.

He brought a hand underneath him as he hoisted himself up from the floor.