No More Misery

One - Watson's POV

The next morning, I decided to walk past her house. To watch her and her family's house behold their daily morning routines.

 I sat at the side of her house, behind a bush where I wasn't in anyone's view. I noted her mother walking out of the house, down the porch and to the car. She was dressed very formal. She looked pretty tired, but also gave off a sense of happiness. I heard the front door open again and was praying to myself it would be her. My prayers were answered, I saw the long blonde hair and heard the simplicity of a voice that matched the appearance. "Sorry mom, I couldn't find my journal." She ran to the car and got in the passenger seat. "It's okay. We need to hurry; I'm running late for work." Her mom began to pull out of the driveway. I wished that I could follow them. I wanted to see the girl's destination. Work? Or was she a student?

I waited for her father and presumably younger brother to leave the house. I walked up to the porch and I remembered the disappointment I felt last night at how poor her family was at hiding the spare key. I pulled out the spare key from under the door mat, and unlocked the door. I opened it slowly, ensuring that nobody else was present inside. I was alone. 

I ran upstairs to her bedroom. It smelt strongly of perfume that wasn't detectable last night. I surveyed her bedroom; her walls were painted purple, with Polaroids of her and other people hung by string lights. She also had a lot of art work displayed above her bed, that I wasn't sure if it was created by her or someone else, it was remarkable. I noticed a laptop on her desk. I walked over to it, stumbling over a dirty sweater on the floor. I took a second to chuckle at her very messy bedroom that reminded me of my own, then continued to the desk where her laptop lay. I opened it, and there was no lock or login. Her Instagram page was left open on a tab. I went to her profile and immediately saw her biography.

"Berkeley Year 1, a diagnosed coffee addict."

Berkeley was about a 10-minute drive from here. My older brother Quinton attends University there for Exercise Physiology, he's in fourth year. My parents always called him "the better son," and "the most achieved son." Screw him, and my parents. 

I scrolled through her posted photos, admiring how happy she seemed. No matter how hard I tried to make myself think she was faking her smiles in these photos, she seemed so real. I noticed her username; I wasn't sure why I didn't check earlier. It was Hensley Westfell. The name made me smile. She was no longer just a face, a person, she was Hensley. My perfect Hensley.