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Oliwny Notatnik

Oliwny Notatnik

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Feb 5, 2016
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Fiction
Social Themes
...Spojrzałam na ubrania rozrzucone w rogu pokoju. Później na książki, które, mimo że ładnie ułożone, leżały na podłodze, zamiast na meblościance. „Chyba faktycznie trzeba tu trochę posprzątać" rzuciłam sama do siebie. Zaczęłam od ubrań, następnie książki i zeszyty, potem bibeloty przywiezione zza granicy. Spojrzałam na kwiatek. Uschnął już prawie całkowicie. Nie wiele listków pozostało zielonych i miękkich. Większość spuszczona ku dołowi twarda i krucha, ale mało który oderwał się od gałęzi. Jakby liczyły na to, że kiedyś jeszcze powstanie. Roślina wyglądała okropnie, mizernie i słabo, a jednak coś mnie powstrzymywało przed wyrzuceniem jej na kompost... Fragment pierwszego rozdziału nowego opowiadania, jakie szykuję. Historia dziewiętnastoletniej dziewczyny o imieniu Oliwia, która, mimo swojego wieku, nie jest w stanie oderwać się od dziecięcego świata marzeń. Pierwszy rozdział pojawi się około 5 lutego!
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This book is rated R. Please proceed with caution. This is the more raunchy version of the book. *** We stand in silence, as I sip my water, and he watches me do it. Finally, he breaks the silence. "I'm sorry if I... offended you by sleeping in your bed last night. This morning. Whatever." "It's fine. You didn't do anything." He nods, his eyes far away, as if thinking of how to word his views. "I didn't do anything... but I wanted to. I wanted to so badly." I nearly choke on my water. I don't know what's worse; his confession, or how nonchalantly he says it, as if he's reading the weather. "Come again?" I say, thinking that I must have heard him wrong. He shrugs. "I want to f*ck you." Again, he is as nonchalant as ever. I just stare stupidly, my mouth agape. He closes my mouth, grinning at me, wicked intentions in his eyes. Not so nonchalant anymore, I see. "Um, I-I...I don't..." I stop talking, realising what a total idiot I sound like, while his grin broadens. In that second, I am grateful for my dark skin, as he can't see me blushing. "Tongue-tied?" My cheeks get hotter. "Shut the f*ck up." He actually laughs. "Don't worry, honey," he says, his hot breath brushing against my face, shocking me. When did he get this close? "One day," he whispers, now in my ear,"I will f*ck you." I realise that my eyes are closed and I open them. He's gone. I stand there frozen, in total shock. What the actual f*ck just happened? *** When all you know is disappointment, you become your own best friend. You isolate yourself from everyone else. You need no one; love is a weakness. That's the case with me. Then, Prince Charming rides in and changes everything. Except, he isn't a prince. He is light, but he holds darkness; he is joy, but he knows pain; he is beauty, but within him is imperfection and ugliness. He is just like me, but he is nothing like me.

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