I need help, my chapter 7 has been unpublished and no matter what I do, I can't reupload, I have no idea why. Any ideas? Any advice would be most appreciated thank you! <3
Well, on with the story :)
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Layla had woken up, feeling very thirsty and very nauseas. So after she managed to crawl out of the bed, make a beeline for the toilet bowl and vomited out everything she ate, she started feeling much better. It was only then that she realized she wasn't in her own toilet, or in her own bedroom for that matter.
Her brain seemed to be dead to the world because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember past accepting a glass of wine from Matt.
Wait, Matt. Oh.
'I must be in their guest room.' She thought, looking around her with interest.
The bed was big and could easily squeeze 7 of her, if they all laid side by side. There was a nightstand beside the bed and a couch as well with the TV in front of it.
Throwing herself onto the couch, she giggled as she landed on the plush velvety seat. It was the most comfortable couch she had ever laid in. 'It's even better than my own bed' she thought ruefully.
Grabbing the TV remote control she flipped through the channels, wondering if there were any nice movies at that time of night. Obviously there weren't, because she soon got bored and switched the TV off.
It was then that the thirst in her throat which had gotten worse, caught her attention, so she decided to go to the kitchen to look for a glass of water.
She felt sorry for just wandering the house alone like that, but she was desperate. When she walked out of her room, she took a right turn and got lost.
Their house was too freaking big, she mumbled grumpily to herself.
After much trial and error, she finally found herself in the kitchen without the faintest idea of how she got there. Eagerly filling a glass of water, she gulped it down, moaning at the feeling of the cool fluid soothing her parched throat.
Washing up, she frowned. How in the world was she going to find her way back to her room now?
Sighing, she decided to trust her instincts and started walking, deciding that if she kept walking, she'd end up somewhere eventually.
Along the way, she walked past many framed pictures, with Rick's signature at the right bottom corner. She had worked for all four of them for almost four months now and she recognized his signature immediately.
One picture however, drew her attention immensely. It was hiding in the corner of a dark and dusty hallway, with a grey cloth covering it and it was surrounded by junk. If she hadn't accidentally turn into the hallway, she would never have noticed it.
Layla's curiosity was piqued to its highest, and she couldn't resist walking over to that piece. It felt as if, she was being hypnotized to uncover the picture. That somehow, she felt that it was important for her to look at it. Finally, unable to stop herself, she flipped the cloth off.
For a moment, dust flew everywhere, making her cough. It was like that picture had been covered for years and years, waiting for someone to uncover it. What she saw however, was the last thing she expected.
It was a little boy drawn with his back facing Layla, his one hand hugging a picture frame, and his other arm outstretched. He was reaching down, over the edge of a ravine, as far as he could go. And then, almost a tiny dot-she would have missed it if she wasn't looking properly, was a crumpled, red colored car-almost like it was washed with blood.
She couldn't see the boy's expression since his face was facing the ravine, but from the colors of the background, and basically what she felt from looking at the picture, was a deep sense of lost, of grief and of regret.
Gasping, she leaned in closer to look carefully at the small picture frame the little boy was carrying, and she felt her eyes welling up with tears.
It was a family portrait.
It was quite clear what story this picture was telling.
The problem was, whose story was it?
Slowly covering the picture back with the cloth, she continued walking straight, her mind no longer on where she was going, but focused solely on the picture.
The picture was no doubt drawn by Rick, it didn't have his signature as usual, but the style of the painting and the strokes of his brush were quite indicative.
Why did he paint such a sad picture? More importantly, why was it hidden in the corner like that?
These unanswered questions kept swirling around her head, and before she realized, she recognized the same hallway that she had come out from, the only difference was, she was now on the right side of the hallway.
'I must have walked one whole round around the house,' she thought wryly.
Glad that she had trusted her instincts, she walked towards her room, ready for a good night's sleep.
As she was walking past the room on her left though, she was distracted with the sounds of masculine groans coming from the room.
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I'm sorry, this is just what happened to Layla when she accidentally walked in on them. It's not interesting, but necessary.
You'll see why~~ ;)
vote and COMMENT my lovelies~~ :)
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