Mortis

1.

1.

I sat quietly looking over my papers deciding whether or not they were fit to endure the scrutiny of my editor and mentor Tibble Shane. I glanced over at my clock to see the angry, red digital numbers reassuring me that it's still early. My desk was cluttered and not an inch of wood visible through the disarray of papers and wimpy first drafts. I groaned in frustration as my aunt Julie called from down stairs.

"Hayden!" Her squeaky voice called in an echo, filling in the emptiness of this giant house.

"Yeah?"

"John's here! He's outside!"

I dropped my red pen on a dissected page and took a deep breath. Why would he be here so early?

He usually doesn't get here until seven forty to then drive us to school in a hurry, I thought to myself.

I sat up tall and looked about my disgusting, messy room and made my choice.

"Tell him to come up, Jules!" I finally replied. I tried my best to order the chaos on desk. "Why are you such a wreck, Hayden Marshall? Jesus," I mumbled to myself as I quickly ran to the other side of my room and closed my underwear drawer. I heard a car door slam outside and my heart rushed along with my pace of picking up. The sound of my front door was distant along with the greetings between Julie and John. "People can't just show up whenever they want! Especially when I have so much shit to do," I complained as I shoved a dirty sports bra under my king sized bed. It then occurred to me that I probably looked as bad as my room but by then it was too late. I could hear his steps ascending the stairs. I shoved my curly brown mane into a pony-tail and walked back to my desk.

"Hay?" Came John's voice from behind my painted door.

I glanced at the mural I'd created on my door so many years ago and grinned at the beautiful array of flowers and colors. I suddenly felt calmer and empowered.

"Come on in," I said.

John walked in and closed the door behind him. I took in his appearance and no longer felt empowered. His wavy coal black hair was out and wild, setting a beautiful contrast against his large icy blue eyes and fair skin. He glanced at me with those big eyes of his and grinned warmly, making my stomach lurch. He was wearing a red t-shirt and fitted blue jeans with black and white converse. I'd always compared him to Jared Leto in his younger, Requiem for a Dream days, and that's probably not saying much. He wasn't very tall and had a rather slim, but toned, frame about him with a nice set of shoulders. He had the whole careless musician look to him which made him a pleasure to look at. The rest of our school's young, female population felt the same way.

"Are you just going to sit there and look at me like that or can I get a 'Hello, John? Good morning, John. Thank you for picking me up every morning, John. You're the best, John. What would I ever do without you, John?'" He said with a laugh.

I looked up at him and regained composure as I always have. "Why are you here so early?" I asked trying to direct my attention back to my notes.

I was failing miserably.

He grimaced. "Well, I know you're turning in that big, short story-whoa oxymoron-today and I just wanted to see if it was going alright. I didn't mean to interrupt," he said walking over and leaning on my desk.

"It's fine, I just had no clue you were coming so early, I'm just going over a few things."

He leaned in further to my eye level and lifted my chin. "I'm going downstairs then. I'm going to make breakfast...you know, since the angry vibes are so angry in here. You want anything?" He moved away from my eye level and towered over me.