Loving yourself is hard. Trying to find love in a family who objectified you? Seems like work. But try finding love in someone as a hopeless romantic too.
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Smart, nerdy, pretty, and kind are all the words she's gotten used to. Being a Junior in...
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Snakes in my stomach, a pebble on my throat, and a noose hanging by my heart—that's what this agonizing drive felt like for as long as I've left, going back to Malibu.
Danica still begged me to stay and Cade wouldn't even look me in the eye. Henry was the only one who showed little support even though I knew he resented the idea. As expected Jocelyn was MIA but sent her luck through text; I didn't mind her absence since she barely had any knowledge of this issue's magnitude.
However, out of everyone who had been around to see this unfold there was one that couldn't leave my mind: Matteo.
For the rest of the week, he made it his mission (as it seems) to try and keep me away. From fake news of a deadly disease to listings of all the things that could go wrong. He was pestering me with all his inadequate excuses and I was sure it was all some kind of mind game that he liked to play; the Matteo I know would be decent once, then a murderer in the next. In the end, he left me alone but of course, not without the distant glares or the cursed muttering as we passed each other.
I have to say though, now that I'm only a few blocks away, all his warnings are coming to view and I'm starting to have my own doubts.
My fingers have been drumming on my wheel for the past hour and my feet are like jelly, ready to unarm the pedals to send me to my untimely demise. Anxiety kicked in twenty minutes ago and I haven't even reached the peak yet. With a mind as unstable as this, lying should be just as easy as digging up a body— in a mass grave.
My final stand was when I was halfway and was having my second thoughts, then, my mother texted asking how long I'd be and of course, I had to answer. This prompted me to continue my own death sentence.
I started thinking about the things my friends had said and my anxiety never got better, and as I reached the door, it was evident that it wouldn't get any better.
As I stood by the front porch my eyes fixated in the dark wooden door with its golden details. It's quite ironic how such a magnificently made home is housed by the devils themselves. We could've been different. This family could've been run with passion and love and family; in another life perhaps; but now it's just filled with trepidation, wrongful accusations, and terrifying consequences. From what I know, the family shouldn't be made of this. Like how a tapestry shouldn't be made of yarn.
Mustering up enough courage even before I could check my phone and walk away, I pressed the bell and heard it rang true inside, alarming the dogs. My heart drops at the realization of my actions and I couldn't be more scared as I waited. The barking and scuffling made it a little bearable but the way my heart was going didn't seem natural at all. I could drop dead here any minute.
When I heard footsteps and shushing from the other side, I took a deep breath and mustered the best smile I could. I stood tall, chest out, back straight and chin up, exactly the way mother had taught it. My hands carrying the weight of the bags filled with my burden and the door swung open.
