My Life As Stacey Green.

Chapter 19

Shout out to littlelixox and PorcheFanatic check there books out!

Jacob pushed the door open and strode in valiantly with me feebly behind. The diary was clutched in my hands desperately, I couldn't let this go, it was compelling me. I needed to open it and search its contents, I had to, now. The ground floor was deserted, but upstairs had a few lingering figures moping about the rooms. We didn't dare go looking inside them. So in the end Jacob ended up raiding the kitchen for edible food, I sat in the garden and tears rolled down my cheeks. I sat on a gnarled high tree branch and had the diary settled miserably in my lap. My parents real or not didn't get to see me turn sixteen, or escape prison or have a boyfriend. I was a very lonely person now in this new world. I couldn't trust anybody without them leaving me or betraying me. What did I do to deserve this fate? Running from villains and meeting sorcerers and lord knows what else, life was never this complicated, ever. I was famished and filthy and what was keeping me running was long unknown. Slowly I slid down the twisted tree and entered the building. Cecil stood lazily in the kitchen, he wore only tartan bed trousers revealing his stomach circled with tattoos and glitter? His hair was tousled and he looked stern. "Stacey!" He cried in a crazily camp voice. He gave me a long relieved hug and whispered something into my hair. I looked up and smiled at my brother, I had never had a sibling before and I always wondered if you hated your siblings or loved the world out of them. He then ushered me upstairs into the bathroom and closed the door gracefully. I the had a long, well waited for shower. Hot bursts of water trickled across my grimy skin and once I had stepped out I felt entirely new. I then rushed into the room Cecil had said was for me and pulled some clothes out. A leaf green T-shirt and a pair of skinny blue jeans. I also slipped into a pair of burgundy converse hightops before rushing at an incredible speed down the long stairs, like I used to do when I was younger, it brought back sad memories of my parents and Bob. God I needed that asshole more than ever now. I slumped onto a sleek grey couch and flicked through multiple channels on the plasma screen television. It had been so long since I had actually done anything remotely normal, it felt relieving, very. The television offered little to no comfort what so ever, the diary was the only thing I had my mind on, I needed that diary. I hastily rushed outside and clambered yet again up the tree to find the diary sitting obediently where I had left it. It was only at that moment I realised how utterly dumb I had been. There was a lock, and no key. Knowing my lock it was done up with magic, but I had to try the original way. "Screw you lock!" I screamed throwing the diary down the tree. That haplessly didn't work. I climbed down the tree fuming. I grabbed the diary off of the ground and tried to force the diary open but, to no avail, it was useless. I slammed my hand into the window shattering it instantly. I felt a stinging in my palm and when I looked down the lock was making horrific clanking noises as my crimson blood seeped through the key hole and was opening it. Pretty soon it had burst open the diary laying menacingly by my feet. "Sorry about the window!" I yelled to no one in particular before scrambling back up the tree. Quietly I sat precariously in the branch and prepared myself for whatever horrors lay for me behind this leather cover. Shaking, my hand cautiously opened the cover expecting ghosts or something to flitter out and eat me or something. But instead I was greeted by yellowed, brash pages with loopy black writing across the page. I read it aloud, almost silently under my breath. It read:

Looks like you found my diary Lazzelle, surprised you didn't find it sooner, for example, when I was alive. Well I hope whoever you are Lazzelle or not, take a selfish pride in reading about my sorrows. ~ Lucy Crower