Lena Whittemore

Monday Tuesday

I wake up to an empty bed and nearly panic. Oh no, am I back at that wretched house with Al? I look around and see that it's still my room. But where is Ryan?

I face palm my forehead. Of course he's not here, today is Monday.

I lay back down and sigh. I'm feeling...a little better than yesterday. Ryan helped me a lot last night, I'm glad he's still there for me.

I guess I better get dressed for school. But as soon as my feet touch the cold floor, the wounds on my legs start to hurt, but I try to ignore the pain and walk to my closet.

As I'm searching for something to wear, my bedroom door opens.

'What are you doing out of bed," Ryan asks.

I turn and see him blocking the closet door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I was getting ready for school," I say and go back to searching.

"You're not going to school today," he says and stops me.

"Okay, fine," I say and he leads me back to the bed.

I lay down over the messy blankets and he closes the closet door.

"So, what do I do all day," I ask.

"Stay in bed and relax, maybe play a few games," he says and shrugs.

"That's boring," I say.

"Well, you need to get better," he says.

"But, I'm not sick," I protest.

"But you went through a traumatic event, that sort of counts," he says.

I pout and he gets into bed with me. He starts to tickle me and I laugh.

"No more pouting, no matter how cute you look," he says and kisses my cheek.

"Are you going to school," I ask.

"No, I told Jackson I'd stay here with you while he goes to school," he says.

"But I'll bring your grade down if you don't go," I say.

"I'll make up the work," he says and shrugs.

"I feel bad, I'm keeping you from doing good in school and-"

"Don't do that," he says, "I'll be fine, I just want to protect you."

I blush a little and hide it from him. He chuckles and messes up my hair...even more I guess. It was already messy when I woke up. Now that I think about it, I feel a little embarrassed.

"Don't feel embarrassed," he says, "You look beautiful either way."

"Don't do that," I say, "not until I can read your mind."

"You can read my mind anytime you want," he says.

I try to concentrate, which lasts for almost five minutes until I start to hear fragments of his thoughts.

"Beautiful...love of my...paradise...if only I could...I'll kill...he won't ever...again."

"Did you get everything," he asks.

"Only a little, like love of my something and if only I could something," I say.

"You'll get it soon," he says, "you'll be able to read everyone's mind like me."

"I don't think I'll be as good as you," I say.

"No, you'll be better," he says.

I chuckle.