secret soulmates // phan

twenty seven.

thank you guys SO MUCH for the nice response to this story. i read all of your comments and i truly love reading every single one. i'm so sorry for not updating for a while, i really want this to be a good story so i want to write when i feel inspired to!

Dan
"Daniel James Howell. Welcome home!"

No. Not welcome home. Welcome to the shitty, creepy, unevenly painted, smelly house with squeaky doors, scratches all over the walls and food in the fridge that's been there for four years.

I'm in my aunts house.

After I called the ambulance, my mom was rushed to hospital. She's in critical condition, because of the cancer. You guessed it.

The cancer has spread. I heard the doctors whisper it was bad, but they told me it would be okay. I hope so.

I just came back from the hospital. I stayed there all night because I wanted to stay with Mom. At least she's awake now, luckily. She told me to go here because there's nowhere else I can go.

"Are you going to come inside, or..?? I don't have all day. There is a reason I didn't get children."

I step inside. This is aunt Carol's house. She doesn't have a husband, nor does she have any children. She has got four cats. She called them Pim, Pam, Pom and Cat. And yes, my ocd and I hate her for not naming the last one Pum or whatever.
I can smell the litter box from here, even though it's in the other room.

I'm glad I never eat anything anyways, because I am definitely not going to eat from this fridge.

I sigh and take a seat on the couch, before standing up again because aunt Carol shouts at me as that is where Pom sleeps. Awesome.

"Can I see my room, please?" I ask politely. I don't see aunt Carol that often because she is known for being very mean. I can't believe this woman is my mother's sister. She's ten years older, though.

I decide to just stay nice to her, even though I'd rather jump off a cliff than to stay in this house any longer. She is not the kind of woman you would want to get in trouble with.

"Of course. Follow me."

She walks up the squeaky staircase and turns to the first room. She opens the squeaky door –yes, everything in this house is squeaky– and lets me in. She slams the door shut and walks back to the living room immediately.

The room isn't much. I have a bed and a night stand. No desk or anything, but that's fine.

I didn't get the chance to bring much. I've got my phone, my earphones, some clothes and bathroom stuff.

Oh well. I won't die here. I hope.