13. midnights are cold

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This is a long ass chapter ;) sorry!

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This is a long ass chapter ;) sorry!

W O N D E R

It was raining. A type of night that not many people went adventuring outside but rather curled up in little balls on large couches, in even larger blankets to watch an entertaining movie.

My phone buzzed on my bed as I looked down from my computer screen, the flashes of light mirroring onto my face as the movie played.

Gripping the cold phone in one hand I read the message sent from a girl called, Samantha Petal. She was my math buddy, a girls who's brain wasn't valued but rather the size of her bra. We didn't text often but their was a connection between us both, the underlying fact we were both considered 'sluts.'

are you here?
10:56pm

what are you talking about?
10:56pm

The party at Tom's. You here?
10:57pm

No...
10:57pm

Get your ass over here I need someone to watch my drink
10:57pm

I paused and looked at my screen, looked at her contact photo and the bright gleaming smile she held, a photo we took before anything happened to us, before we stopped smiling. Guilt churned within my stomach at the thought of someone happening to her due to the fact I didn't look after her — not that I was ever too sober myself.

Okay. I'll come. Don't drink until I get there 10:59pm

Putting my head back on my inviting pillow and scanning the screen and the frames of film within, I wondered what it would be like not to have to lie.

It was just all one big lie.

It builds until the bundle of thread wraps itself around you and just when you think everything is in control, you fail to notice the thin thread around your throat. It tugs every so often, reminding you it is there.

For me, a thread called Tom Sawyer, one lie I told myself so I could sleep with shaking.

That, Tom Sawyer simply didn't hear me when I whispered, "No"

I winced at how loud the music was when opening the front door, which was pretty hard considering someone had been making out against the poor wood that never asked for any of this.

Pushing past the couple as I stuffed my hands into Jean Jacket pockets, pulling the fabric close to my ribs in an effort to cover my body that was partly soaked from the heavy rain that down poured as I had walked up Tom's uncovered copper paved path.

My jolted halted on their own accord as I stood frozen, eyes scanning around at the environment I knew so well.

A choking sense took over me as his walls fell towards me, the musky furniture and polished wooden floors rocked. The buzz within my hand, I pull my phone from pocket desperately to read Samantha's message:

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