𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄, riverdale [2]

SIX

Mariah did not stay to listen to the remainder of the conversation. She had went to the back, grabbed her things, and left Pop's with her mother following behind. After she got home, she went up to her room, locking the door behind her.

She had ignored her friends' calls and text messages, wanting to sulk in peace. Her mother had come to check on her numerous times. Mariah never let her in, only making a noise so that the woman knew that she was still alive in her room.

The blonde spent the majority of her time alone thinking. She gave up on trying to distract herself from her thoughts so she just let them come. And then, she wrote them all down. She wrote for hours. What had happened, how she felt, all of her emotions, she just wrote all down. And she kept writing until those words became a song.

She looked down at the pieces of paper on her lap. She hadn't intended on writing a song. She just did. She hadn't written a song in years and she had certainly never written one like this. Her previous songs were, to put it simply, horrible. They lacked thought and emotion. She wrote about being in love, something she had never experienced. She wrote about going to parties and clubs, something she hardly ever did. She wrote about experiences she's never had, which is why to her, the songs were horrible.

Because they were inauthentic.

But this one, this one was real. Because everything she had written, she had experienced. She was still experiencing it. Mariah didn't read over the song more than once. She simply gathered the papers and put them in her desk drawer.

A knock on her bedroom door drew her attention to it. She walked over to the door and opened it. Her mom was stood on the other side, a plate and glass in her hands. "I made you food," the woman said. Mariah looked down at the plate, taking note of the sandwich and potato chips on it. "A sandwich?" Mariah jokingly said.

"Hey, be grateful. Plus, it's the best sandwich that you'll ever have. Ham and cheese with lettuce and honey mustard," Amara said. "My favorite," Mariah muttered. "Your favorite," Amara confirmed. Mariah took the plate and glass of water from the woman's hands. "Thanks, mom," she said before walking over to her desk.

Amara followed her daughter into the room and took a seat on the bed. "You do know that it's one in the morning, right?" Amara asked. Mariah looked up at her after taking a bite of the sandwich. "Is it?" She asked. The woman nodded. Mariah shrugged. "How did you know I was still awake?" She asked. "I saw the light still on underneath your door and heard movement when I came to check on you," she answered.

Mariah squinted. "I didn't even hear you outside my door," she said. "That's because I'm a ninja," Mariah replied and Mariah rolled her eyes. "What have you been doing up here?" Her mother asked next. "Thinking, writing," Mariah answered.

"Writing? A song?" Ms. Coleman asked. "No, I was just writing. But somehow it turned into a song," Mariah replied and her mother laughed. "Well, I'm glad that you're channeling your emotions into something positive. That's a healthy way of dealing with things," Amara said.

Mariah took another bite of her sandwich. "Are you a therapist now?" Amara rolled her eyes and stood. "Eat up and then off to bed. You've got school in the morning," she said. "Do I have to go to school? I'm feeling a little under the weather," Mariah said. Amara walked over to her and placed the back of her hand onto her forehead, cheeks, and neck.

"You don't feel warm. So, I'd say you're fine," she said. Mariah frowned. "You can't hole yourself up in your room. It's not—"

"Healthy, I get it," Mariah grumbled. Amara kissed Mariah's head. "I'll let you stay home today. But you're going tomorrow," she said. Mariah smiled, "Thanks mom."