Book 1 in the "Unspoken Words" series. This is a short story in which every chapter is a short diary entry.
"And with that, she jumped."
~
After blowing out the candles on her birthday cake during her 17th birthday, Maya Greene takes her last breat...
Maybe those walks during the evening became a bit too long and a bit too cold.
But somehow, I always find comfort in what's bad for me.
I'm such a mess, S.B.
Anyway
Nobody came.
Nathan sent me a text saying he can't drop by, because he has an important game and can't risk getting sick too. Basketball is his life. I'm just a trophy, a way to pass time and useful in bed. Other than that, I'm worthless to him.
And Bree. That diva is busy being a bitchy cheerleader. And even if she came, she would've stood 10 feet away from me with an oxygen mask on her face.
John, my stepfather is probably out drinking in some night club and banging other chicks. He doesn't come into my room on Tuesdays.
The thought is comical. Mom thinks he's a kindhearted man who works for a decent company. But the truth is, he was fired one year ago form his job, he's a gold digger, an alcoholic, a cheater and a rapist. To sum up, he's a piece of crappy shit.
Lastly, the maid is probably cooking dinner. She dropped by twice, once to give me my medication and the next time to give me a bowl of tomato soup. It was good. But not like the soup dad used to make for me. The one with too much macaroni and too much salt. Just the way I liked it.
So I guess it's just you and me today, S.B.
I'm currently lying in my king sized bed, leaned back in several comfy pillows and wrapped in a warm blanket while gazing at the stars on my ceiling.
They are golden colored and decorate the part of the ceiling above my bed. I remember dad and I painted them together when I was thirteen. Back when everything was okay.
I wish I could go back to being thirteen. Back to a time when the world didn't have to tell me how to act, what to wear, what to say and what to be.
The world is a bitch. A big one.
To be honest, even when I'm alone, I have really good company. Wild fantasies, crazy dreams and a bunch of golden starts to gaze at. But no matter how much company I manage to create by myself, nothing can fill that empty hole of someone's warmth.
This world is cold. You need someone else's warmth to make it out alive. At least I do.
Sincerely, whatever.
****
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