SIXTEEN ⚡️ START

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Chapter 26 - Start

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START

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START.

A funny word really. The start of life, the start of a day. Usable in nearly every situation. For me, the start of the end of the best days of my life. Or, how I preferred to think of it, the start of an adventure.

I woke up the next morning and immediately checked my phone for the time. The irrational fear I slept through the days I had left was overwhelming, making me nauseous.

8:42 AM

I sighed in relief, doing the math in my head. I had around five days, ten hours, and thirty minutes left. Man, it felt like I had sold my soul to the devil. In a way I had, to save all of my friends' lives. It was worth it, but that didn't stop the fear.

Swinging my feet over the edge of my bed I jumped at the cold shock at hit my feet from the floor. Taking my time to acclimate, I walked to my closet and pulled out an outfit. I set it on my bed and went to the bathroom to shower.

After my shower, I returned to the clothes I chose. White shirt, red skirt, and black nylons. I pulled the outfit on and did my hair. I hung up my damp towel in the bathroom and proceeded to do my makeup.

"You seem to have dressed to impress today Miss. (Y/n)," ALICE commented.

"Well, I'm presenting my plan to Bruce today. Might as well look professional for the businessman," I shrugged, grabbing my phone and searching for a pair of shoes.

I finally settled on a pair of black ankle boots. Comfortable, but formal enough to pass in a board meeting setting. I felt older than I was, despite the fact I had turned sixteen the day before. I would be a businesswoman and present my idea.

"ALICE, call Wally please," I made the request before I left my room and walked to the kitchen. I found a recipe book in the cupboard and tracked down a pancake recipe.

"Hello?" Wally's voice was bleary with sleep, coming from my phone speakers. I paused, I could get used to his morning voice. Listen to it for years on end. Shaking my head, I put myself back on course.

"Wally I need you here in five minutes," I ordered, pulling out flour and sugar from a floor level cupboard.

"But it's Sunday," he complained, groaning tiredly after. There was a thump, he slammed his head into his pillow.

"I'm making pancakes," I tempted, smirking. I could get him to do anything if it involved food. Anyone could get him to do anything if it involved food.

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