Chelsea's POV
I pulled the curtains shut. Blocking all and any sunlight that entered the room. I grew to like the dark. Something about it was so refreshing. So ... calm and vexing.
" Chelsea! You'll miss the bus sweety! " My mother knocked on the door. I sighed, summers were over and it was back to my sophomore year in West Wood High. Not the best place to be. Let's say, the atmosphere resembled that of a dessert, with hormonal, impulsive teens each one more messed up in the head than the other.
Exhaling, I swiped the books from the furnished wood study and rather rudely shoved them in my bag, before snatching them over my shoulder. Making one last stop before left. I stared at my reflection in the full-body mirror. Short heightened, with a chubby face and an odd twist of brown and hazel for eyes with classic short brunette hair that flipped to the right. The clothing was a dark blue top with denim shorts and white sneakers.
I can do this.
Making my way down the marble staircase I stopped by the calendar.
"Dad'll be home today.." I said smiling to myself. I settled down the leather black stool in front of the counter, the contact with the cool surface sent a pleasurable shiver up my spine.
"Eat something this time around before you go, or you're not going out with those hooligans this weekend." Mom pouted, waving the spatula in my direction with a pout. I raised my hands to mimic surrender.
"Ay Ay, Captain."
She gave a warm smile, deep depressions dotted either side on her mouth with smile lines creasing her face as she shook her head, her peachy golden skin played with the sunlight as she moved across the stove.
I smiled thanks at her when she placed the hot plate of freshly made pancakes and syrup under my nose.
"What is this sorcery?"I laughed contently as I poured the thick purple liquid over the mother surface, dripping off from the sides onto the clear white plate.
"It's good, right? You're Aunt sent berries from the farmhouse so I thought why not make some syrup since no one likes fruits in this household."She said, proudly.
"I like fruits!" I exclaimed.
"No, you like canned pineapples from the grocery store that aren't anywhere near-natural." She shot back. I faked hurt by putting my hand over my chest.
"Spongebob won't like this," I said, eating a spoon full of pancaked syrup in my mouth.
"Well, I'm pretty sure he didn't want to have his home sliced-diced and compressed in a tin can for a girl to eat either." She countered with a smirk.
"Point...." I gave a thoughtful look before laughing.
The bus arrived shortly after I got in. I was greeted with the familiar faces of teens. Their faces splattered with acne and pimples as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Keeping my eyes on the floor I spotted an extra seat near the window. As I settled in, I greeted my neighbour with a polite wave and began looking out of the window side as he continued to vibe to the pump-rock playing on his earphones.
The nagging thought of how this year would go aided to the twisting of my stomach from anxiety. I breathed, closing my eyes momentarily.
YOU ARE READING
Blind
Terror"DEATH? I'll drag you to hell myself." Chelsea Maynard. With a shaking experience from her past, she's become a pole of attraction to both worlds. The Living and The Dead. But this gift came to her at a price. To ease the swelling guilt from her pa...
