back again

L & J forever

Layla's P.O.V.

I hear footsteps approaching my door while I stay under my covers, hiding from the world and trying not to face reality. A gentle knock on my door makes itself barely audible under my pile of blankets. I don't make an effort to move. I hurt too much. Experiencing a heartbreaking disaster is so much worse than in movies. It's not just your heart that hurts, it's your entire body. The pain spreads all the way to your toes and the worst thing is that there's no cure, so you just have to lay there and suffer, trying to replay all of the memories that that person gave you, which only makes you hurt worse. Your head aches all the time, demanding to be felt while you continue to lay there. There's nothing worse or more cruel in this world than heartache. Believe me.

My mom tries once again knocking, and then finally let's herself in, softly shutting the door behind her. It makes me want to cry all over again because I know why she's coming in. To "talk about it." I don't want to talk about it though. She's gonna come in here and try to push me out of bed and try to force me to go see Jordan because I only have a week left with him. 6 days actually. It's not my fault they made the decision. He doesn't have to go, it's not like his parents are making him. He could live with his grandparents or his uncle, but he won't. Stubborn Jordan, as always. It's breaking me inside, really.

"Honey," my mother says as she slips her hand into my sanctuary of sheets and blankets, pulling them off of me. "please at least eat something. You've been laying there for hours, and I.. I think you should at least make an effort to see Jordan. He's upset about it, too."

A stray beam of sunlight shines through the window and hits my eyes. I move my arm to shield myself. "No." I say, situating to turn around, but she grips my arm and rolls me back in her direction.

"I'm sorry you're sad Layla, but I'm not giving you a choice. Get up and get ready. I'm taking you. If you let him leave without at least telling him goodbye, you'll never forgive yourself and he won't forgive you either. You might never see each other again." She let's go of my arm and leaves the room, leaving me to get ready. She's right. I could possibly never see my best friend again. I need to see him one last time.

I jump in the shower and rinse my body with peppermint body wash and my hair with coconut lime shampoo and conditioner. I grab a towel, dry off and brush my teeth twice. I comb through my hair, ripping through it quickly, wanting to see Jordan fast so I can get it over with. I exit the bathroom, shaking as the cold tile hits my bare feet. Entering my closet, I throw on a pair of leggings, my white high top converse, and a black tank top with "BEACH HAIR" in bold, white lettering on the front. I walk back to the bathroom and blow dry my chocolate brown hair in record breaking time, straightening it as well.

I grab my purse and take my phone off of the charger, which I haven't checked in 4 days, and walk out of my bedroom, shutting the door and switching the lights off. Letting a small grin appear on my face as I trot down the stairs, I attempt to scroll through my 246 text messages and no telling how many Social media notifications. I get to the bottom of the staircase, only to see my mom waiting there, looking for her keys.

"Aha, here they are!" She says loudly as she jingles the keys back and forth victoriously in my face. I laugh lightly, causing her to smile. "Let's go." She says.

We walk out the front door and head for the car, getting in. Mom starts the engine and I get butterflies in my stomach. I try my best to push them down, but it doesn't work well. Mom starts down the road and we drive in silence, neither one of us daring to speak. I lean my head on the back of the chair, staring out the window at the beautiful, tall palm trees. They almost look like fingers jutting out from a jaggedly cut hand, as if they're grabbing at the sky.