Blair Nightingale is unlike most girls that go to Trinity High. On an odd day you'd see her roaming the streets with her little companion Derry. Then you would see her in school, hiding behind the local newspaper that she thought was just the right...
Don't act like you care for us. You know you didn't
Last night I dreamt of him, lying in a bed of grass, eyes closed. Everything was ice cold. I can't make contact with him, no matter how much I scream. He wouldn't wake.
If you care, Gran is still taking me to therapy. She almost called me Megan. If this answers your question, I hadn't thought about you. I prefer Blair more. I never liked the name you birthed me with.
Your daughter
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Monday 27/11/18 7:28
I left my grans apartment early this morning as I usually do. I took the same route to school I do every Monday morning and headed straight for the corner store at the end of my street.
As I reached the door, I noticed that the side window was completely boarded up with sheets and there was tape lined across it. Completely horrified, the closer I got to the main door, I was able to read a sign that read, "Closed for today. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Saddened, I couldn't purchase my weekly news paper, I turned on my heal and headed back towards the sidewalk. The door opened suddenly behind me and I spun back round to be greeted by the owner.
An old, but loved man, Mr O'Reilly would be considered one of the lovable residents living in Trinity. I'd hear some of the craziest stories from him. There's never a day where he doesn't have something to tell his customers about.
"Come in child," He beacons me with a weary hand. "We may be closed, but I can make an exception for my favorite customer."
Smiling, I ran quickly inside after him and closed the door after us. I didn't run out of pure excitement (well, sort of) but because of how unbearably cold it was this morning.
"Cold init?" He comment on with his very evident accent, noticing how I was rubbing my hands together.
I nodded and followed him towards the back of the small store. It always smelt like detergent in here, but today it was different, almost like a stale smell, which is odd considering the massive broken window out the front.
My foot hit off something on the ground and I glanced down to see some broken glass. Did I knock that? Crap, clumsy me. Just as I was about to picked it up and clean up my mess, Mr O'Reilly ordered me to stop suddenly.
"Try not to touch anything," He told. "Coppers still need to suss the joint out for suspects and fingerprints."
Confused, I lift my eyes from the ground and check out my surroundings. The entire place was trashed in one aisle beside me. My mouth opened wide and I voiced my whirling thoughts, "What happened?"
