What did I think about my life? It's cool, it's great, and I loved living in a tiny house with no air conditioning in London with my very sweet, very sarcastic cousin. Why would you ask? I mean, sure everyone kept saying, "1972 is your year, (Y/N)!"...
Oops, I totally rewrote this chapter, and now it's so much darker than it was supposed to be...
Heatherophobia: The fear of Heather and her ideas. A phobia developed by me and all of her close friends, and was given the name Heatherophobia when Heather was in grade seven. We all had it way before she was in grade seven, but her boyfriend at the time joked about having it, and so we all just went with it. Ex. "Wow, I can't believe Heather just slaughtered that kid on the football field. Guess he's gonna have Heatherophobia for the rest of his life!"
I felt my Heatherophobia kick in when Heather announced her idea with so much pride, you might have thought she found a million pounds on the ground. For a moment there, I forgot how hungover she was, and I began yelling about how stupid that idea was. It really was awful though, but seeing her wince while I yelled was a bit harsh... But still! Running away because she thought it would be fun or something? That wasn't cool.
I had read that it was common for teens her age to want to start a life on her own, and I knew that she was technically an adult now, but seriously? She couldn't handle herself at the bloody grocery store, so what made her think that she could live in rural Wales, where there were fricking monsters who wanted our souls and stuff? And there were Wights! How could she just ignore that?
"You could get caught; Victor might wimp out and you'll be alone; a hollow or wight could get you..." I counted everything off on my fingers, and I would have kept rambling, if Heather didn't cut me off.
"Be more quiet, will you? I have a splitting headache," Heather whispered harshly. She fixed her sunglasses so they would stop slipping off of her nose, and began to rub her temples. "Besides, how do we even know if wights exist? We live in a house full of children, so how do we know that The Bird didn't just make them up, to scare them silly, or whatever? Plus, have you ever seen one?"
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You obviously didn't listen to anything Miss Peregrine has taught us. The hollows are invisible, remember?"
Oh.
That did sound a bit fake, now that I had finally said it out loud. Like, them being invisible was the perfect excuse for why no one had ever seen them. And it sounded like no one from the house had actually met a hollow in real life, either. It would make sense for Miss Peregrine to create a fear tactic to keep everyone in place. She was dealing with hyper kids with superpowers, after all.
Although, everyone here seemed so convinced that the things existed, and what about The Bird's many photos? I recently was looking through them with Millard, and he would point out the story behind each one. I remembered there being a page in the album that he skipped over, however.
"Let me see it," I had said, and turned the page back, only to find that the photo we skipped over was more than just slightly disturbing like the other ones were.
The photo was black and white just like the rest, and it showed a small family of three. The man sat on a chair, holding a small girl in front of him. A woman stood next to him, and they all stared into the camera. However, all three of them had white eyes, and despite them looking to be blind, they seemed to look right at me. Also, the man looked like he could have been an American president. He just had one of those faces, you know?
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