I brought my hand up to the door to knock. I looked back at my house. one face staring back at mine from a window high up caught my attention. it was tate. he watched my every move, his eyes seemed to droop more than usual. he stared at me for ages. it might've been a trick caused by my vision, but I swore I saw a tear splash onto his cheek, his thumb rising quickly to swipe it away. I blinked and he was gone.
how was he crying? he would never like me. someone like him. he probably has girls clinging to him left, right and centre. I had no chance. he was so pretty and kind. no one like him would go after me. but michael did. and that surprised the hell out of me.
I felt an unknown confidence take over me as I rapped on the door with my knuckles. a woman wearing a fancy dress and a curly hairdo answered the door. I guessed it was his mum. she gave me a once over and I looked down at my shoes in embarrassment. if Michael had me, his mother wouldn't.
"are you Michaels friend? come on in, deary." she stood back, holding the door for me, gesturing for me to go in.
I stepped in. "thank you. I am maggie ma'am. is your son able to hang out?" I tried to speak as politely as I can. first impressions count.
she smiled. "I am Constance, pleased to meet you. Michael is out at the moment." she paused to check her watch. "he'll be back in a few. coffee?"
"sure, thank you." might as well have a drink while I wait for him to get back.
Constance wasn't as bad as Martha described her. sure, she obviously had her secrets. she had bags under her eyes, matching tate's, that she desperately tried to cover up with foundation. she was a proud woman who had visually been through a lot. I admired her for being strong. after a long chat about a range of things, coffee and cigarettes, the door finally opened. Constance went to answer it and in stepped Michael.
he looked like a mess. his hair was sticking up in different directions and was matted from sweat and sticking to his forehead. his lips were kind of swollen and red. his shirt wasn't done up properly and the belt from his pants hung loosely around his waist. his chest was heaving with deep breaths.
he looked quite relaxed, greeting Constance and grabbing a soft drink can from the fridge. he snapped it open and chugged it. he turned around and removed the can from his lips. once he saw me, his jaw popped open and eyes went slightly wide. he licked his lips nervously and went upstairs, motioning for me to follow.
when we got inside his room, he looked at me, panicking.
"you smell of sweat and sex." I felt like crying. no, I wouldn't.
I looked up and looked more closely at his face. there was smudged lipstick stains and where his neck was, there was obvious hickeys. a tear fell from my eye.
"I went to the gym." he said lamely.
"no, it's okay. I understand." I turned to leave.
he grabbed my shoulder. "I'm sorry maggie. I swear. it was one time."
"no. I get it. I don't pleasure you, I don't do anything with you like that." I looked down and spoke the next bit quietly. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't think we needed that so early in our relationship." my voice cracked.
"maggie. I'm so sorry. we don't need that in our relationship. I'm sorry. I love you." he said, grabbing my hands.
"you're a man and you have needs. I should be the sorry one." I said. "I need to go. I'll see you later."
"hey, you'll get over this right? you'll stay with me right? give me another chance?"
I realised how alone I was without him, I had no friends besides him. how was I going to turn all of this down? I know he cheated, but people make mistakes. he's only human. and it's my fault. "yeah. but right now I need to be alone."
he nodded silently.
I left and showed myself out the door. I ran back to my house, sobbing. Martha seemed to not be home and I was glad. I ran straight up the stairs to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. why am I such a hopeless and utter failure. I'm such an idiot. i grabbed the razor from a draw and pulled out my shirt. I froze. I saw the healing scar that Tate had kissed. Tate. why does everything remind me of Tate. remind me of the longing I have for him. out of the blue, a rich red coloured blood dripped onto my hand. that wasn't mine. I looked slowly upwards, from where the blood came from.
I saw a dead body. just floating on the ceiling, barely touching it. it's lifeless face stared down at me as bloody from its mouth dropped onto me. my breath accelerated and I screamed, dropping the razor and running out of the bathroom.
I ran down the hallway just screaming my head off. I saw Lance run down the hall really fast towards me. he caught me and scanned my body for any harm.
"what's wrong?" he asked.
"t-t-there was a dead b-body. on the ceiling. in the bathroom." I started crying. lance let go of me to go investigate and I sunk to the floor. I hugged myself and rolled back and forth, crying and crying.
"there's nothing there." lance said to me, giving me a look of sympathy.
no I wasn't crazy! I got a sudden burst of courage and I stomped back to the bathroom. I looked up at the ceiling. nothing was there and the blood from my hand was gone. I wasn't seeing things. was I?
"no. it was right there." I pointed limply at the ceiling, starting to cry again.
"come on. you need some rest." he led me to my room and tucked me into my bed. he smiled a little and then left.
I curled up in bed, crying until I had no more tears to shed and I was emotionless.
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I'm listening to the cancer cover by twenty one pilots and I am in love. so good!!
hope you like my story so far :^)
I love you!!
ALSO, check my other book to be featured in a new story!!
- emily 💐
