STARGAZE - IT IMAGINES & PREFERENCES

strangers // wyatt oleff

hi so this was inspired by the song 'our love remains' by rei brown :)

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okay so the storyline to this is a little wonky so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

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there are four parts so stay woke
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P A R T  O N E - S T R A N G E R

my knuckles were white and my cheek was cut. it was pouring rain and thundering. i was sad. my coat was catching drops of the rain. my mother would then scold me for being late to the party. but at this point, i don't even care. why am i even here? why should i stay in this stupid town? i'm just another depressed teenager. nothing matters anymore. everything mattered when dad was here. but now he's gone. and i can't get him back.

i turned the rusted golden doorknob and pushed. my mother sat there talking with 'ken'. he was my 'step-dad'. i just called him 'person'. overlapping chatter drowned out the sound of me opening the door. i pushed past all of the people and walked upstairs. i opened and locked my bedroom door and sat on my bed. i brushed my hand against my bleeding cheek and stared down at the floor.

i walked to the bathroom and stared at the rusted sink. mom never cleans this place. i thought as i turned the lever to allow water to flow out of the sink head. i dipped my hand into the stream. cold. i winced and pulled my hand back. i kept turning the lever in difference directions, but it was just cold. the only other option was to turn the shower on, and so that's what i did. i cleaned up my cut which was turning into a nasty yellow bruise. and the way i got the cut? some kid at school punched me. it wasn't bad. just some middle school idiots that express sadness on innocent people. except i wasn't innocent. i've killed before. my neighbor's cat. i took him out into the woods.

i'm pretty sure he had a name.

i walked back into my room and sat down on my bed once again. what if someone in this town was a murderer? and our family was next? i had everything i needed to survive if that would happen. pocket knife, escape route, the pistol i stole from my dad before he left. i had anything and everything.

rustling came from my walk-in closet. i shot my head up and looked in the direction of my closet. murderer. i slipped my pocket knife out from underneath my bed and grasped it firmly. i slowly walked to the closet, and pushed open the door. the light was on. it's never on. only when i'm in there. it was quite messy, so i stepped on and over clothes on the floor. i pushed through the hangers of shirts and jackets.

my hideout.

the door.

it was open.

i was starting to panic. why? oh, only because my pistol was underneath my pillow. no big deal. the potential murderer of my family is going to find my pistol and use it on me first. of course, the youngest dies first. at least i'll put up a fight. i hope. the door was opened enough for me to walk through it without making any noise. i held my knife higher, hoping it would go to use. i walked ever so carefully though the doorway, i shut my eyes, knowing the killer would make the murder quick. i squinted one eye, then opened it. then the other. nothing.

click.

the barrel.

i flipped around for my eyes to meet a boy. he was holding my pistol, and turning the barrel around. his back was facing me. this was a perfect to hold him in a head lock.