{EDITING PROCESS}
*BOOK ONE OF TWO*
When a high school student named Davina Smith faces her senior year after a tragedy in her family, suddenly finds herself appealed to the new kids in town.
She never had an interest in befriending anyone besides h...
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I don't think I've ever felt so weak before.
I feel like everything has finally caught up to me after I so hardly tried to run from it. Yet in the end, it caught up to me and knocked me down. Straight on my face.
My eyes feel heavy from my crying and my mouth is dry. Once upon a time, a thought the hardest thing to have devastated my heart was the death of my parents. But this, this is truly what gets me.
Moments of the past four months replay in my mind like a projector. Memories I once thought were going to last forever. Moments I believed would never be thought back onto in a bad way.
So I wanted to believe. Because now I lay in a locked from the outside bedroom, curled up in a bed, crying.
How could he say something like that?
How could he say he never should've talked to me?
My mouth trembles preparing and trying to hold back the tears. A whimper leaves my mouth and I close my eyes, letting warm tears roll off my face.
This a pain I could have never imagined to exist. It truly is excruciating.
My eyes have become so heavy from the crying I'm starting to drift off and I don't fight it back. I don't fight back as I feel the wave of exhaustion hit me hard and knock me over.
I can only hope that some miracle blesses me and allows me never to wake up.
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A knock.
A knock at the door wakes me and I open my eyes.
I hear a pair of light steps walk off and I turn in bed to face the door.
What the hell?
Curiosity floods me and I yank the covers off and walk to the door. The only light was the moon shining through the barred window. The door was locked from the outside, containing me from the outside. A nice "I love you." from dear old mom I guess.
When I near the door, I spot a little white sheet on the floor and I bend down, picking it up. The sheet was folded in half, concealing whatever was in it.
I unfold it and writing is all I see. The paper has a small brownish-reddish stain on the corner and I frown. I assume it is dried-up blood and look back down at the writing. But when I start reading it, I can't help but cry.
