The Troubled Ones | ✔

Chapter 3. Better Left Unspoken

[a/n]: pic of aria's window seat to the side>>

ps// i do not own this picture, and this picture belongs to whoever took the photo.

pss// please comment below on how you think the ending is of this chapter bc tbh i dont feel too confident in the ending of this. sigh. i will edit later .-.

Chapter 3. Better Left Unspoken

                After taking a shower when getting home from school and hiding away from my parents and sister, I decide I need to face the music. I open my bedroom door slowly and peer across the hall, where my parents room is located and then down the hallway, where my sister, Sabrina's room is at. I take a deep breath and walk quietly on my toes around the corner until I arrive in front of their bedroom. Since we live in an apartment, there isn't really an upstairs in our little place, but we have a nice large kitchen, a bathroom, and three bedrooms, which is perfect for our family.

It's pretty dark outside, which is surprising for it only being 9:15 PM, and it's especially surprising since it's almost summer and it should be getting lighter out when it gets later in the night.

I knock hesitantly and my mother tells me to come in and I do.

"You started a food fight, Aria?"

"What? How did you-"

"The school called." she explains and I glance down at my feet.

"Your father and I told you no more funny business!" she sighs in disappointment.

"Mom, this wasn't my fault! The jerk who was all behind it, deserved it, he-"

"No excuses, Aria!" she clicks her tongue and I bite back the urge to roll my eyes at her.

"Go to your room you're grounded for a week." she orders and my jaw drops.

"You won't even listen to me!" I fume.

"Room, now!" she points to the door and I stomp away from her and leave the bedroom.

I stop as I turn to round the corner of the hall, a thought popping into mind. I bite the inside of my cheek and turn around, heading for the front door to our flat instead. I slowly and quietly open the entryway and then shut the door behind me and exit our flat, making my way to the roof door at the end of the long hallway.

Glancing around me, I finally notice that I am out of sight and open the large door and follow the latter that leads me straight to the apartment's roof where the warm summer wind hits me gently and pull myself up onto the concrete filled with bits of rubble on the ground.

The sky is dark and the stars are beaming brightly, but the moon is half-covered with gloomy clouds as the smell of mildew is barely recognizable in the atmosphere. Clearly, it will rain tomorrow or later in the night.

I dust myself off and move over to the edge of the roof, planting my elbows on the roof side and resting my chin in my hands while I peer out over the city. Sudden slamming of doors and yelling makes me frown and lean over the edge steadily to see a father and what I assume to be his son, shouting in Italian; a language I will never master.

"They're the Musante's." someone says from behind me and I spin around on my heel.

A tall, somewhat pale teenage boy stares back at me as he stands before me and I swallow the saliva in my mouth through my dry throat. His eyes are blue and bright, yet dark at the same time. They're more beautiful than the blue color of the ocean. His hair is dark and soft-looking and it's coiffed up the smallest bit at the top.