Mixtapes ♬

❻ Lions Inside

t h e s e c h a i n s w i l l
n o t h o l d m e d o w n

"Lions Inside" - Valley of Wolves

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"You've got to be shitting me." I let out an agitated groan and sank onto my knees. Frantically, my hands tried to salvage what they could from my dropped concealer-stick. This alone was enough to piss me off any day of the week, but on an occasion when I needed it most, enraged me.

I had tried so hard to use makeup to cover up my lack of sleep. Staring back at me through the bathroom mirror was a girl with eye-bags the size of golf balls. Using the greasy substance between my fingers, I desperately smudged the concealer onto the tender skin.

Last night had been horrid, no matter how hard I had tried to shut it out, my brain kept rereading the letter, which was now sitting on my bedside table. I couldn't figure out if it was a real threat or just a practical joke.

'It's probably just a gag. How would someone "ruin" me anyways?' I thought, forcing an uneasy chuckle out of my chest, 'I'm fifteen. What's there to ruin?'

Giving up on the rest of my makeup, I trudged across the hall back into my room. On the way, I caught a glimpse through Ty's panelled door, which was open a few inches. 'Could he have made the letter? He'd easily be able to stick it in my bedroom.' I shook off the thought. 'He wouldn't do that, would he?'

I paused briefly, wondering if I should just directly ask him. A moment later I realized how bad that could look if it was a false accusation. I decided to keep it to myself, at least until I knew a little more. The thought of telling my other friend's also floated in my head, but I knew it also probably wasn't the best idea to share this with them either. The majority of the group would probably just use it as another excuse to tease me. Keeping this quiet would be a challenge, seeing as they usually figure out everything eventually.

Back in my room, I found myself leaning on the edge of my queen-sized bed, letter in hand. For what felt like a few minutes, I sat there, pondering with my thoughts. Eventually, my mind wandered off and I caught myself thinking about my upcoming swim season. All summer I had contemplated going back, my interest in the sport was fading quickly. It wasn't because it was boring or unappealing, I just simply favoured my team sports over it. The season was already a few weeks in, so my coaches were getting a little irritated that I hadn't yet made up my mind.

In my head, I weighed out the pros and cons.
'Pro's: A great sport to keep me in shape, training is a great stress reliever, I qualified for state this year, I get to see Lloyd four extra times a week-'

"Wait, what the hell?" I said aloud to myself. I should not have been thinking that. I was astonished that an idea such as that had even crossed my mind.

'He's your best friend, dumbass. Snap out of it! Not to mention he's dating your friend.' Why was I having such bizarre thoughts?

"Hey, Ella. You coming?" A masculine voice brought me back into reality. I turned and faced the source of the question. There standing against my doorframe was Ty, sporting an AC/DC crewneck and some worn ripped jeans. His hair (as always) sat like a shaggy blonde mop, on top of his symmetrical face. 'Not too bad, Beckett.'

That's when I realized what name he called me by.

"Sorry, I think I misheard you," I scoffed and furrowed my eyebrows, "For a second it sounded like you called me 'Ella'."