i n v i t e ? ♢

159 6 14
                                    





〈ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ〉

〈ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ〉

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.


In my dream, it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Grayson's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in the darkness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned.

Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time.

After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.

To my dismay, I found myself the centre of attention for the rest of that week.

Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow.

I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since nothing had happened to me — but he remained insistent.

He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table.

Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.

No one seemed concerned about Grayson, though I explained over and over that he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the way and within doing so, risking his life.

I tried to be convincing.

When the van had moved out of the way, everybody including Mike, Jessica and Eric had only then noticed him.

I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause —no one else was as aware of Grayson as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.

Grayson never had a curious crowd surrounding him, who would've been bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Dolans and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Grayson, glanced my way anymore.

When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn't somewhat as oblivious as he appeared.

twilight☽ - g.dWhere stories live. Discover now