It's Sunday afternoon and Cecil hasn't texted me back. Should I be worried? Am I overreacting? Should I text her again?
>>>>BREATHE HANNAH
Okay, okay. I slowly breathe in and out as I close my eyes. Once I've successfully calmed myself down, I pull up my hair and look for my pencil. It probably fell off my bed when I was panicking. I spot the half end my pencil taunting me from under my bed. I reach to grab the object of desire and fall off my bed. Rubbing my head, I grab my pencil and jump back up on my bed. The drawing I was working lies near my pillow. I shove the pencil in between the pages and toss the sketchbook on the floor. As I hold my aching head in my hands, the faint murmur of voices coming from outside my room come to a shuddering halt as a sickening crashing sound resonates through the house. There is complete silence for a few moments followed by Dad yelling about my brother bleeding and, "YOU GO GET A BAND-AID RIGHT NOW YOUNG MAN I CAN'T HAVE MY RIGHT-HAND MAN BLEEDING OUT ON ME!!". I listen to the uncoordinated footsteps of my laughing brother as he goes to retrieve a band-aid and the crunch of my father sweeping up whatever was broken.
Every other day something is broken in my house. Whether it's a plate or a light bulb, it breaks and whoever broke it goes to Walmart or Target or Ikea to get a new one. Sounds like my brother is going to be getting the replacements today.
I fall back onto my back and shut my eyes. I fall into a blissful sleep listening to my brother and father loudly procrastinate.
YOU ARE READING
I Hate Missing You
Lãng mạnWhile walking around, Cecil sees someone she can only describe as an angel. Hannah, as hard as she tries, can't believe in 'love at first sight'. Sickness, love, betrayal, and homesickness tied up into a pretty pink package.
