I wrote until late that night. The distraction of a story wasn’t enough right now. At two in the morning I gave up and tried to go to sleep. I spent the rest of the day until eight falling asleep then waking up from terrible nightmares.
In the nightmares I can barely remember what has happened afterwards. I wake up practically hyperventilating and sweating an almost literal puddle. I just wake up thinking of Austin and I get this weird feeling of failure.
Anyway the longest sleep I manage to get is less than a half hour. And even that wasn’t all that great.
When the clock next to my bed finally hit eight I decided it was an acceptable time to get out of my sweat-soaked bed. I walked into my bathroom and looked in the mirror. My hair was a mess and I had huge bags under my eyes. And even worse, it was a Monday. That meant my all-to-cheery tutor would show up today to go over my week’s school assignments. This would not only delay my visit to Austin, but annoy any small possibility of a good mood away.
I forced myself to take a shower before haphazardly cleaning my room. I shuffled into my kitchen and ate a granola bar and drinking some apple juice. I avoided all human contact, as I was already grumpy, I slowly returned to my cave of a room.
I changed out of my pajamas into a pullover, maroon sweater and a pair of dark blue, almost black, skinny jeans. I put on my pair of zipper-less combat boots. I slid my black, small purse over my shoulder. I was about to make a run for it out my back door when the doorbell rang.
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The Final Call
RomanceWARNING! This story could trigger some readers! Please use caution! Ally had never lived an ordinary life. She was a successful, published author before high school. She'd always had her troubles, but nothing like this. When her boyfriend tries to...
