Broken Youth

Chapter 3

~ Chapter 3 ~

••Megan••

My hand were shaking. Like I had seen a ghost. My lip was trembling. Like I was afraid. I had to sit down. Like I felt as though I would faint. The strange thing was, I didn't feel this way at all. I was oddly intrigued by this boy. Someone who had evidently been into my house, messed it up and left. But something was niggling at me. What would he want from me? It was obvious he was looking for something or he wouldn't have taken the liberty to search for it and wreck my house in the process. What if he found it? He did. The newspaper's gone. But what else? I couldn't move. I was telling my legs to move, to stand up but my joints were frozen; I need to assess the damage. But I can't. Is this him? Is he stopping me from functioning? No. That's impossible. One human being cannot control another. Unless your a robot- and this boy, whoever he is, cannot possibly be one. The robots are discrete- you wouldn't know they'd been in. They are programmed to memorise the exact position anything was in before they were moved. So that ruled the option of him being a robot.

A flash in the sky and a sudden downpour of hail stones caught my attention. Lightening but no thunder. Hail stones but no clouds. I stared outside, not really taking in the acne before me as the weather changes, the strange boy, Madison's bag, Mrs Vlack's weird behaviour and my house became oddly similar. As if all the happenings were tied together- related. I continued to stare out of the window, watching the hail throw itself at the windows and doors. The occasional flash of bright light.

The silence was almost suffocating. I need air. The walk hadn't cleared my head or helped me with my problems. I still had the need to scream at nothing. The voice in the back of my mind was still yelling; harassing me; throwing a fit. Something was happening around me, and I was unaware. Yet I had the capacity to find out, to figure it out. I was smart, I had the information. But I need the newspaper. My diagrams and notes were all over it. My problems- in poetry were scribbled in the margins. Vampires. Warewolves. Ghosts. All decorated in swirly text around the page. It's weird that something so ordinary, so normal, was taken. It's as if he wanted to know, but was scared to ask. Or he didn't want me to know. I ruled that out almost straight away- how could he know what I was researching. How could he know that's what I had chosen to do my essay on? He didn't. Therefore he wouldn't know to take it from me. But still, I needed it back. I wanted it back.

Still feeling out of place and not in my own skin, I grabbed the TV controller and switched it on. As usual, the district news was on. Basically the only channel available- unless you live in the City. But I don't. Headlines about other counties and business' popped up and faded away again before one particular one caught my eye.'Three more dead. Leaving only a letter written in blood on their foreheads, are bloodless children.' I should be scared, but instead I am interested. Research is key for my essay and now that more and more stories are flooding in, it is becoming easier to defend my argument. It's hard though, making sure I don't say things that will upset people. Choosing the right words and researching the most specific things are the hardest parts when writing. Even when I have creative writing pieces to do, I find it difficult to find the correct language. A two letter word could cause an uproar and I would be to blame. Not the teachers that taught me the word, not the professors that encouraged me to use it more, but me. That's how harsh it is. The society I live in is nothing to be proud of. If someone from another world asked me how proud I was of the way society has evolved, I'd give them a reply that would scare them from ever coming back to Earth.

I sat up, turning down the TV but keeping it on. My computer was already out but I needed to turn it on. While it was doing its thing, I stumbled along the hallway and into my office. The darkness that coated the house made the situation ever more frightening. After shifting through the various accounts and random papers about the room, I had order again. My diary, notes and start of my essay were what I needed. I found my notes in no time; a white folder labeled: Essay. Easy enough. My brow furrowed realising that my essay wasn't there. It was gone. Frantically, I searched all around the room for my flower covered notebook containing my life; my diary. But it was no longer here. They had both evaporated along with the newspaper.

My heart jumped. My breathing rate had exhilarated as I realised why I couldn't find anything I needed. Why the newspaper with my sketches on were gone, why my essay had 'vanished' and why my diary was no longer safe. He took them. Why? What was so important about those things that he needed them? How did he even know I had them? Still deep in thought, I walked back into the living room like a zombie. The laptop was booted up and ready for use but the thought of working seemed stupid. I had essentially been robbed, but nothing worth the while had been taken. Only paper. My eyes wandered the room, automatically ignoring the TV. I gazed over at the bookshelf, hoping there was something there that could help me. My eyes fell on a book. A book that had been passed down generation by generation in my family- something of huge wealth and importance. The only material I could ever and would ever care about. It was the only living memory I had of my parents. The only thing I would consider saving if the house went up in flames. In fact I don't know what I would do with myself if I lost it. It meant a great deal to me.

I didn't even need to open it to know what was in there. I didn't need to look in the glossary to see what words meant. This book I had read many times. Too many times. But I didn't know it well enough to know about the secret messages behind it, so I opened it. Bloody Vacancy. As tradition, I started from chapter one. Maybe this time round I can work it out, the puzzle my ancestors set up. Maybe even use it for research. Content with my position, I started to read. Not knowing what was about to happen. Unsure of what lay ahead. Not realising that I was being watched, observed.

Unconscious of the fact that everything I knew was about to change...

{Authors Note}

Dedication: @InevitableDreams - babe you are amazing. I love your book too *squeals* and your support on this has been amazing. Keep sharing the love!

Note: Ok, so a bit more about Megan. I hope you enjoyed this one because I love writing in Megan's POV as she is so like me. I don't really care for objects but my books and phone I love. Partly because I love escaping from the world in books and my phone has my books on soooo... Anyway, as you expected, she finds out that the things are missing. Annnndddddd... she reads Bloody Vacancy. (a quick reminder that I have made that up and has relevance to this series of books (oops spoiler))

Author: Ok, on wattpad- Anna. You should check her out because she is a phenomenal author. Her name is @imaginator1d (there may or may not be an 'x'). As you may know, she writes the 'After' trilogy, but they are well written. You need to give it a chance but it is so adicting.

Please, please, vote and comment and share this book around!

Love you all- Meg|<3