Isla's - HS

Chapter one

September 8th

As I woke up this morning it took every bit of will power I had to actually get out of bed. It's been like that most days for me lately. Everythings just felt so heavy? I dont know whats wrong with me right now, I don't think the average person struggles with doing the most basic tasks to survive.

I groaned as I stood up out of bed and quickly threw on a hoodie. I began to follow the same routine as I've done every day; wash my face,brush my teeth, and make my coffee. Then I went to sit on the couch in silence to contemplate life.

I heard a knock on the door.

For the last couple weeks whenever I hear that noise my stomach drops. I sat there for a few minutes. Long after I hear footsteps walking away from my door back down the hall to the stairwell, I walk over to the door and look through the peephole.

Nobody's there.

I sigh and unlock the door. As I thought there was another bouquet of flowers sitting at my feet. Slowly I step forward and look left down the hall towards the stairs. Nothing. I look right towards the other apartment doors. Nothing.

I pick up the flowers and bring them inside. Placing them down on the table, I look through them for a note, Once again, nothing.

I start to pick at my nails, a habit I've picked up since all this has started, while looking down at the bouquet. I don't know what to do about it, it's starting to get really scary. I was less concerned when I was getting dms from fake accounts, but then I started getting texts. To my personal phone number. The only people that have that number are people I trust. That's when I started to worry, then things escalated. I was leaving the studio one night and I noticed a piece of paper on my windshield. I grabbed it and got in the car without reading it and locked the door.

When I got back home I grabbed it out of my bag and unfolded it. The only thing it said was "Give up Ivy".

After that night I often found notes on my car, sometimes pictures of me printed out and left there too. I don't know where they're coming from but when things started showing up at my door my anxiety spiked and hasn't dropped.

I've always struggled with anxiety, for most of my life I've used music as a way to cope and work through my struggles. But I haven't been able to work through this and the depressive spiral I'm in, which just feels like it has no end.

I can usually work my way through them in a couple of months maximum, with therapy, my meds, and talking to Mave. But I don't have Mave anymore. I don't have anyone anymore.

My parents cut me out of their lives when I made the decision to pursue music instead of going to university. They don't think it's a career or stable enough to support me, and I can see where they're coming from to some extent, it's risky. But I'll never understand their ability to simply tell me one night that I'm no longer part of the family.

I know I've always been the "other child" , my sister Madeline is everything I'm not, she's smart, ambitious, obedient, and most importantly to my parents, she's going to law school. A real career as they call it.

After taking a photo of the flowers, just in case, I throw them out.

Walking back into my bathroom I start getting ready for the day and do my makeup then head back to my room to grab some clothes. I have to get into the studio today. My producer Mark is going away with his wife and kids for the next month so I want to finish off this song to ease my mind while he's gone.

After I'm ready to go, that uneasy feeling is back in my stomach. I'm scared to leave my house. I shouldn't be scared to leave my house. Before I go I grab my phone and look at the pictures I've collected of these flowers in the last couple weeks. As I scroll through them, they all look the same. Different flowers in each photo, but I have a feeling they're coming from the same place every time because of the light pink paper they're wrapped with in every picture. But when I hit the last photo, from this morning I noticed something. A circular black sticker on the paper. I quickly scroll back through the photos again and there's no sticker on any of the others. I try to zoom in to read what it says but it's too blurry to make it out.

I drop my bag on the couch and rush over to the garbage bin in the kitchen. I open it and pull out the flowers to read the sticker and in white print there's only one word. Isla's.

I quickly type Isla's flowers into my phone, and sure enough, a flower shop pops up about fifteen minutes away. I have to go. I text Mark and let him know we have to push the studio time an hour. And get in the car.

—

After sitting in silence thinking the whole way there, I pull up in front of a cute little store in a brick building, with a black sign on top of the door reading Isla's in white print. There's flowers surrounding the door, and down the sidewalks in both directions.

I grab my bag and phone and take a breath trying to calm my nerves. Getting out of the car I lock the doors and head for the building.

Walking in, I was hit with the overwhelming scent of flowers. They're everywhere. Covering every wall there's shelf after shelf of flowers.

I look around and find the counter on the far side, directly across from the door. There's a man standing there, his back towards me as he types into the computer.

I walk towards him and when I reach the counter, he doesnt turn around.

I stood there awkwardly for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than ten seconds before I softly cleared my throat and the man quickly whipped his head around to face me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How can I Help you?" he says, with a smile across his face

He's gorgeous.

For some reason my brain short circuits and I find it nearly impossible to form a sentence. "Hi, um I- My name is Ivy" I say smiling back. "I had a bouquet of flowers delivered to my door this morning and I was hoping you could tell me who ordered them?"

"Sure, can you tell me your address? I'll take a look" I let out a breath of relief and after telling him the address of my building and apartment number, he types it into the computer.

After a moment he turns back to face me and says "I'm sorry Ivy, the order placed this morning was phoned in and they didn't leave a name".

I shut my eyes and feel myself spiralling deeper. "Oh. Okay thank you for checking. I've had a few left at my door the last couple weeks, and the one there this morning was the only one that had a sticker on it. That's how I found this place. Do you know why that is?".

He turns back to the computer "Well there's a note on this file under the address you gave me, saying to leave the stickers off. My brother was here this morning, helping me with orders and he must have missed it".

Why did someone go out of their way to ask that they leave the sticker off it? Who's going through all this trouble to leave me flowers and notes.

I'm just frustrated now. This didn't help me at all and I cut my studio time by an hour for no reason.

"Okay thank you, I better get going. What's your name?" I ask, grabbing my phone and keys, taking a few steps back from the counter.

"Harry" He smiles, dimples popping out and once again turning my brain into a big pile of nothing.

"Thank you, Harry. It was nice to meet you" I say, turning around.

"You too, Ivy." I hear as I make my way out the door, Leaving with more questions than I had on my way in.