MaRkeD

Tap, tap, tap.. I tried to focus on everything else but the sound.

Darn! I'd gotten that bathroom sink fixed three times already this week. Every thing was wrong with this house, this bloody community.

Events of last night's nightmare resurfaced violently, I tried to ignore but I couldn't. The nightmares had become too frequent lately.

Sweat trickled down my forehead into my eyes. I blinked.

"Emily, you shouldn't have"

Old joey's words replayed in my head.

I had gone out last night to throw the trash, only to have old joey who lived across the road come out almost immediately, not to particularly do anything but just stared at me with this weird expression and said those words.

Now what got me frightened wasn't the fact that he knew my name, even though we've never talked.

After all I just moved in and this was a really small community. Besides I knew his name.

It was the look on his face. In his eyes.

Almost like he was trying to say; now you really gonna have it coming".

I knew old joey sleepwalked. I'd hear his wife come out at midnight screaming his name for him to come back in.

But last night was different. He looked normally sober. And besides the night was still early.

His voice was very low, gentle, barely above a whisper. But I heard it.

In the deathly still night and perfectly empty street, I heard the words clearly.

I had fumbled back into my house with trembling hands and shaky legs. My heart was literally beating in my mouth, my mind working at 15000kilometres per second.

What did he mean? What had I done? Get a job at café down the road? Gotten this house? Talked to his wife? Moved to this town?

Oh don't be ridiculous mily, joey definitely didn't know you before you moved here. Or did he? Of course not.

But then this was Vale-fucking town where nothing and no one was normal!

What the shit did he mean?? I wanted to scream.

I don't remember how I had gotten myself to doze off but it didn't last long. Fifty minutes later I was up, panting , soaked in my sweat, breathing through my mouth, with dilated pupils.

I had it again. The nightmare. I sighed.

They no longer scared me. The first time I had it, that was before I moved here on the night of the murder or "sucide" as the police ruled it off.

I was scared and messed up. I thought I needed to move, only for me to get here and the nightmares became more intense and frequent. And I can't go back. I don't want to.

I sighed again.

I had gotten up and had my routine, got a glass of hot milk and some chip cookies and scrolled through my old messages.

My favorite were usually the ones Paul sent. Telling me he was sorry, I should come back and we could work it all out together.

He doesn't believe me. That's all that matters.

Now I lay in bed the following morning with absolutely nothing to do. Today was my day off at work.

I couldn't stop wondering if I had actually made the right decision moving.

I know I suck at confronting situations, I always found it more reasonable to run, but it wasn't entirely my fault. I didn't grow up in the best circumstances.

Mom did the logical thinking, she weighed the prons and cons of a decision. Without her I was reduced to guesses, heads and tails.

Mom.

I vividly remember her smiling and telling me to have fun at my friend's party on a Friday night. I personally didn't want to go. But mom literally picked out my outfit and threw me out the house..

For as long as I can remember, she'd spent these last few years trying to make up for my abnormal childhood.

Going out of her way to do things for me.

I didn't want her to, I was content with the fact that she stuck around but apparently she wasn't, she wanted to do more...

If only I had insisted on not going out that night.. I might actually have a shot at making her proud for once..

Now you tell me if my life isn't fucked up enough.

Coming back from an actually boring Friday night party to find your mom lifeless in a pool of her own blood, just as you opened the door.

I dialed an emergency. I was too numb to even cry.

I looked around. Everywhere was a little too clean. It looked like the rug was re-swept, the shelves re-cleaned.

I just had an instinct someone was here.

I went over to mom and knelt down. I couldn't talk, my throat was parched.

But my heart shattered into a million pieces over and over again, for as long as I kept looking at her..

I looked at her left wrist that was slit where she had bled out from and then at the razor in her right hand, everything felt wrong. Looked wrong.

She had only one leg of her shoe on, the nail of her middle finger on the right hand was broken, she had strangle marks on her neck..

This wasn't a sucide, as the person had made it look. But the police were not ones to believe that, they ruled it off as sucide.

You didn't take off one leg of your shoe before you killed yourself, you didn't break a nail, you didn't strangle yourself first, then decide to slice your wrists and you didn't slit your wrist in the middle of your fucking parlour!!!

What was wrong with everyone??

I had stayed at Paul's place that night. But even he didn't believe me, instead he looked at me with pity like I was some psychotic stray animal.

The hardest part of losing someone was when everyone else expected you to get your shit together, act tough and move on.

But what happens when you don't even have any shit to get together huh?

So I did what I do best; run away.

Took our last savings and took off without a word to anyone.

It's literally easier to fly without wings than to actually face the grief of losing a loved one, because you don't want to accept the truth....

Anyways here I am, lying on my bed in this shitty apartment, not knowing what the fuck to do with the rest of my life..

All I can do now is to plead with life to at least give me a heads up next time it wants to take a nasty curve.

_______________________

A/n; okay!!! How was it??

Thank you soo much for trying this book out.

Amy<3