Hollow

one.

THIS CHAPTER IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION- PLEASE DON'T READ AND JUST SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER(which is ten times better but still slightly trash) THANKS

*

The hair around her face stuck to the glistening skin of her forehead, the exertion of the previous events weighing on her mind and body. Her face felt flush and all her thoughts jumbled together as she lay motionless, paralyzed in the moment of time. Her heart tells her to cry, her body stays numb, and her brain becomes blank, unaware of the tragedy taking place around her.

Finally able to form a reaction, she curls her nude legs closer to her bare chest, the crisp sheet concealing the details of her skin. Her hair the color of pennies and long enough to reach her hips twist in unmanageable ways around her white pillow. The bright blue of her irises grew dull as she blankly stares out the window, embracing the gloom of gray clouds and the pelting rain against the glass.

And without thought, she embraces the unconscious world awaiting her, leaving behind the pain of her unfortunate reality.

*

Her tender sleep is disturbed by rays of morning gold flowing through the once simple window, making a beautiful scene. But nothing is beautiful about the oncoming events to be used of the days' time. The weekend had come and gone within a single blink amounting in an early rush to school on a Monday morning.

The loud clatter of dishes being set at the table disturbs her admiring eye. Without thought, she is on her feet, preparing for the following hours. 

Her body ached and her head felt to be full of clouds as she picked up a floral romper off the floor and slipped it on. Wishing the day to be over before it even started, she felt like crying.

"Willow? If you don't wake up soon, you're going to be late for school." Her mother warned through the door separating them.

The sound of retreating footsteps creaked against the old floorboards as Willow held her breath.

She quickly turned her back to the mission at hand; attempting to look presentable while feeling the complete opposite. She just wanted to lay in bed all day without carting her dread around the hallow halls, to every class. Her sense felt so far gone she wouldn't be able to learn a thing. 

 The idea of disappearing felt the like a welcomed alternative. She stood in front of the mirror, a reflection staring back that she couldn't feel to be her own.  A dull and disheartened expression peered at her with haunted eyes.

 Quickly diverting her attention, she opened the vibrant tube and began to enhance her long lashes. After a dab or two of concealer and a touch of lip-gloss, she decided against anything more, wary of attempting anything but the basics.

The bus was due any second to pick her up, saving her a 20-minute walk.

A wall clock glared at her with a warning of the passing minutes as she shoved one foot in a boot. Looking around, she couldn't find the other and without fail, the rumble of the bus dismissed her lack of presence. A long walk awaited her, as she exited the confines of her room with annoyance running through her veins. 

The residing smell of burnt food and the sound of her mother humming to the blaring radio greeted her. Oatmeal had never smelt worse.  Breakfast was gone, her mother already partly cleaning the evidence of dirty dishes away from the table.

  She quietly crept to the fridge, quickly looking over the contents before settling on an orange. Carefully closing the fridge door, she made her way to the front door. Pulling her school bag over her shoulder, she juggled her orange and the doorknob, successfully escaping undetected by her mother, who'd be scolding her at this very moment if she hadn't been so obscure.

Her lungs happily ingest the fresh outdoor air after being subjected to the harsh aroma floating over the kitchen.  She took a seat on the front steps to remove the unwanted skin of her orange, a sudden ounce of peace overtaking her body as she sat in the sun, examining all the veins and strings that came attached to her orange.

Her mind wandered away as she compared the orange to the human body. 

 What would it be like if humans were as simple as fruit? Would the world be less complicated with less human pieces?

Her questions began to spiral before a conclusion could be met and shouts of frustration drew her concentration to across the fence, the peace disrupted. Willow brought it upon herself to curiously investigate the rare occurrence with wide eyes.

Mrs. Waklins could be seen in a purple, fluffy night robe on her front porch, taking in the vulgar words that were being spat between father and son, not even making a move to stop the altercation.

This happened to be a strange occasion among Willow's small neighborhood. The scene unfolding in front of her made her feel as if she should move,  give the fighting duo privacy even in such a public setting. But nothing could kill her transfixed stare on the boy being reprimanded by his father. The ebony hue of his floppy hair glistened in the morning sun and her view of his profile showed his athletic build and muscle.

His name is Roman Waklin and though they had been neighbors since Willow moved to Whispering Springs, Wisconsin a total of eight years ago, the two had never acknowledged one another. Roman didn't ride the bus and they went to a big school. There had never been any reason to associate with each other.

The yelling had finally dispersed between the two livid-looking men, after minutes of angry words being sparred back and forth. Mr. and Mrs. Waklin began entering their house while Roman huffed away, heavy feet dragging him in the opposite direction.

He briskly walked to his simple, navy-blue truck before throwing the driver door open carelessly and settling himself behind the wheel. Through the window, Willow observed him lower his head against the wheel, not bothering to start the engine. By this point, they're both bound to be late to homeroom, if not first period.

As Willow mused over the curious boy across the fence, as if feeling her wandering eye, Roman turned to stare directly at the girl with untamed copper locks, the same amount of curiosity as she held for him. He hadn't even noticed the enticing girl sitting right in front of him.

He wondered if she had been sitting there, witnessing the altercation just said between him and his father. Roman's head filled with questions of the quirky girl sitting in front of him. He couldn't help but notice her electric eyes and the way her fidgeting fingers laced around her orange that lay gently in her lap. Her eyes held him, drinking him in, and he doubted she even knew her fingers were preoccupied.

Neither made a move to greet one another's presences but held eye-contact, unsure of the thought of looking away. Willow became consumed with the stare of her neighbor that the idea of school had completely escaped her mind, leaving her to gasp at the remembrance of what she put aside.

She immediately took off running, bag over shoulder and a whole, ready-to-eat-orange in one hand; she began rushing to get to school, leaving the boy to wonder what had just occurred between the two of them.

She certainly had his attention, Roman thought as he decided to skip school and accept the hassle that would ensue. He needed time to process the rare occurrence of this morning, in peace. And though it wouldn't be peaceful for many following moments, a simple day would be worth it.