Black

XVIII

Miss me, miss me, Joe the runaway? xx

Hope you had some good sleep last night xx

Two messages.

Same handwriting.

Jaxon.

The guy who ruined my life.

I leaned against the chair, huffing. I have been sitting on the chair in front of the table for hours, just staring at the two pieces of paper blankly, like it would start talking and answering all my questions.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment and relieving the events of the day. It all being filled with the guy with curly hair, green eyes, and sleeves of black ink.

My stomach churned, reminding me that 2 days was too much without food and that it was in need for it. My head, as well, was pounding so bad, like someone was using my brain as a drum, but all of these were one kind of pain, and the one pain I was feeling in my hip was a whole another pain.

I heard the dog's soft barks, which signaled to me that Zoella came downstairs because the dog doesn't ever leave Zoella's side. He sometimes made me feel like Zoella was his puppy. Charlie started looking after her more after the incident, like he understood that this time specifically, Zoella shouldn't be alone. When she wakes up, he does too and follows her till she sleeps again. He always helps her when she was climbing the stairs, staying behind her to prevent her from falling.

The way mum did when I was a kid because I was so clumsy.

The pounding in my head increased.

I felt Zoella by me, getting on a chair to climb upon the table, "Hiii." I slightly smiled. "I was just drawing a-and I thought you could maybe help me?"

Boom Boom Boom.

"Later, Zoe. Later."

"You always say later, Bebe," she whined.

"Later."

"Pweasee," she said, trying to make me agree.

"God, Zoella, I said later!" I shouted, finally opening my eyes. She was looking at me with wide eyes, her lips trembling.

"Sowwy," she murmured before getting off the table and going upstairs. I took shaky breaths and looked behind me, realizing I just shouted at a little kid for no reason.

I rubbed my forehead and got up. The world spun the second my feet touched the cold concrete, making me clutch the chair to steady myself.

It's not her fault this is happening, why are you so god damn stupid?

As soon as I was able to walk without having to hold on to something in order to not fall on the ground, I went up the stairs and into her room.

Her face was buried in the pillow. The dog was looming over her tiny figure, nudging her, and she was crying. Hard.

I did this.

I walked up to her, lifting her off the mattress and hugging her, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that." she sniffled, her hands slightly shaking. I held them in my own, "I'm just a bit sick. I promise I won't do it again."