Diana Thompson hides behind a capable facade. One that's also strict and a little coarse. In reality, she's frightened, all of it is something she uses to deal with a past so shocking she'd never reveal it to anyone.
She was born in a town called Ri...
Courage is an everyday thing. When we look reality squarely in the eye and refuse to back away from our awareness, we are living courage.
- Unknown
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
☪Diana
I awaken to soft sheets, and morning light trickling in through the blinds. Shedding myself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, my eyes are still shut as I soak in the warmth of the covers before letting my chocolate eyes see the sun's rays.
The aching in my skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, yet the pain is always there. From the pounding in my head and the vomit taste in my mouth, I felt like I was dying.
My throat feels like sandpaper, and everything hurts when I move.
I groan in pain, snuggling my face into my green pillow. Wait, green pillow?!
"I don't have a green pillow!" I whisper, shocked. I quickly jump off the bed, checking my surroundings.
The bedroom is furnished and very well put together. On the crude pine, the bed is a hand embroidered orange cover. The walls were painted a beautiful shade of blue, while the hardwood floors have a nice maple color to them.
This definitely isn't my room.
"What the hell happened last night?" I ask, out loud.
Suddenly, I am greeted by the sweet aroma of bacon. My stomach grumbles, signaling my hunger.
"I gotta get the hell out of here," I say to, myself.
'Think Koby, think.'
My eyes land on a baseball bat that is on the other side of the room. I quickly run to it, taking it into my hands.
I brace myself, before opening the bedroom. Walking as fast as I can, I glance everywhere looking for the front door.
"Who the hell are you?" A feminine voice yells from behind me, causing me to jump.
I slowly turn around facing a young girl, who looks to be in her teen years. Her blonde hair is poker-straight and pulled back into a low pony-tail. She wears little make-up, but I'm pretty sure even without it she would still look beautiful.
"Who the hell are you?" This time it is me who asked.
