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"Home sweet home baby" Laura yells as she jumps on the velvet couch that lives in the living room of our new house.

To my disliking, and against my only wishes for the house, we have stairs. I have a gut feeling that Simon did that in spite because I'm such an ass to him, but who knows. Maybe that's just my luck.

I head to my room immediately, the seventeen stairs that I count welcoming me, and immediately jump on my new and improved queen sized bed.

Home sweet fucking home.

Since I just got off a plane I'm already in my comfy clothes, wearing sweats and a hoodie and some nice old bags under my eyes thanks to the anxiety and the whole drama that happened last night.

I mentally scold myself for last nights events, not only did I kiss Edwin more passionately then I ever did Lucas, but Simon, the person who holds my whole career along with Edwin's in the palm of his hand, saw.

Then I went on to tell Edwin how stupid I felt, which definitely made him feel bad, and that is the opposite of my intentions.

He told me it was his fault Simon saw that and that he should have been more careful but that's not true, because I made the last move.

That doesn't answer the question I've been asking myself the past twelve hours though.

Why did he kiss me?

Not only did he kiss me but it was hella passionate, his hands were resting below my back and mine were under his top. How do I just ignore that? If it was an experimental thing then surely he would've just lightly kissed me right? Just to see how I feel? And he probably would've warned me too right?

This is confusing. Feelings are confusing.

My face falls into a neutral expression as I remember the diary that I have where I write down how I'm feeling. I've had this since I was 14 and it's basically a diary of all my emotions on paper, from the days of abuse from Lucas and my Mum to meeting the prettymuch members, it's all written here.

Stupid right?

I walk over the my double door closet and open the left side, scanning the back of the shelves for anything that slightly resembled a scrap book.

I see a photo of myself and Hanna and push the clothes off the top of it, knowing that's what is on the front cover just in case anyone saw it and thought too much. I grab the book and immediately grunt at how heavy it is from all the photos from the past four years, along with little letters glued onto each page.

I walk it over to my desk in the corner of my room and grab a pen along with a piece of paper and begin to write down my thoughts. The thing is, the only words I could think of was I'm sorry, I don't deserve a wonderful human like yourself, and you don't deserve a mess like me.

Normally I'm able to write down pages about my feelings even in the toughest of times, but Edwin has me stumped. Edwin always has me stumped, that's just it.

Suddenly I'm scrunching up the paper, even though it was empty, and pouring out all of my emotions and feelings into a drawing despite the fact nobody will ever be able to see it.

*

I hear a loud bang and immediately lift my head from my soft, fluffy pillow.

What the fuck?

I grab my phone and check the time 3:45am.

Who would be awake at this hour? And why on Earth do they think it's okay to wake me up during haunting hour? I do not fuck with ghosts, sorry.

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