Night Wanderer

Chapter 3

Celeste Milla's Aesthetic^

Stupid

Celeste's POV:

Davers.

I snap my head up to see him. 

One single word runs through my head.

Shit.

"Where might've you, young lady, have gone?", Davers crosses his arm and glowers down at me.

I gulp and don't utter a word.

"Do you know how long we've been looking for you? Do you know how worried the kids were?", Davers' body starts shaking in anger.

I stick my chin up, trying to show I'm not scared at all, which is a total lie. I then cross my arms.

Think, Cel, THINK!

"No I don't. I was at a friends. I left a note in my room. And-"

"Celeste Milla! I don't care. You didn't even tell us. Can you hear yourself?", Davers' face starts to scrunch up and I can only make him out by the weak streetlamp. His orange hair is ruffled and messed up, his wrinkled rosy-pale skin makes him look so old and his grey eyes look tired, I almost feel bad.

"I-", he cuts me off, exasperated.

"Get inside. You're grounded for a week."

"What!", I splutter.

"GET. Inside. NOW!"

With that, I scurry off inside. I rush up the stairs, ignoring the few kids that are in the living room.

"Celeste!", they shout.

I carry on ignoring them and make it into my room. How did they even know I was-

Right, I forgot to lock my door.

Stupid!

Maybe I was selfish. And just maybe something could've gone wrong if I was out in the night all alone. I'm not even an adult yet so I shouldn't even be out all night.

I guess, making everyone worried was all on me.

...

On Tuesday morning, I wake up rather early.

I take a shower, brush my teeth and braid my damp brown hair.

I pull on black ripped jeans and a woolly green jumper. I wear my black converses and rush downstairs into the kitchen. Mandy is up and she's giving out breakfast to three kids that are awake.

"Oh, Celeste", Mandy says when she notices me. "You're up early."

"Yeah", I sigh and take a seat at the breakfast bar.

"You had us all worried then", Mandy says as she points a jam covered knife at me.

Dangerous. I think to myself but end up chuckling.

"What?", Mandy says, oblivious.

"Nothing", I shrug as she hands me my daily toast. I pause. "I'm-I'm sorry. I just, I was- I needed fresh air. I needed to think." Well I wasn't lying. It was half the truth.

Mandy is 34. She's black, has curly dark brown hair and brown eyes.

"Yeah, but you could've told us. Well not Davers but you know. Me."

Yeah, I do know. Why didn't I, though? Maybe it was the fact that she would say no. 

And Davers would straight up disagree and would never let me out to go anywhere.