S T A M P Y
Bethany.
Bethany.
Bethany.
Her name was like a broken record, and it wouldn't stop playing in my mind. Worst part was, the voice seemed echoey, and I knew I was imagining things, but it still seemed very eerie. It was better than Annabelle, I guess. That movie scared the hell outta me.
Anyway.
Reaching for the door handle, I swung it open, and dumped my black haversack on the sofa, the keychains making a silvery tingling noise as it fell.
I went to the bathroom, took out my contacts and balanced my square shaped glasses on my nose.
I hate contacts.
It's like you have a shard of glass in your eye, seriously.
But when I looked myself in the mirror, I couldn't recognise myself anymore. It looked like I had been pulled out of a local dumpster.
My face was gaunt, its tan look faded to reveal a pale white instead. The bags around my eyes were heavy and black. I swear it on the Styx, my hair could have housed a thousand homeless ravens. I probably wouldn't have liked birds pooping on my head though.
As if on cue, a raven swooped down from the azure blue sky, flew into my window at lightning speed and gave me what my friend Squid would have called,'a shower of blessings'.
"Thanks for the present, birdie. It would have been nicer if you gave me my childhood present." I groaned, tentatively walking across the slippery wet tiles and grabbing a glove from the little metal tray, which was attached to the wall, so that I could wipe the poop off my head.
If you're wondering my childhood present was, it was actually a slip of paper.
Sounds silly, right?
But after watching The Philosopher's Stone, the naive and innocent 7 year old I was, I would look out of the window every morning to see whether an owl would come over to my window, flapping its wings gracefully with a letter to Hogwarts tied to its small stumpy feet. I would go down to the kitchen and badger my mum to take out the mail every single day. I had harboured those hopes until I was 9, when my mum finally told me magic didn't exist and it was just a movie.
That moment lightened my heart considerably, seeing as it had been kind of dark the last few days.
I laughed and scooped the poop off the brown curls in my hair.
This kitty cat desperately needs a shower.
With a small 'click', I unlocked the bathroom door, quickly shutting it and scampering up the flight of stairs. My green eyes darted around for a bit before finding my bedroom. As I took a few steps forward and reached for the silver metal door handle, I opened it to find someone I loved but definitely did not want to see the most at this point: Amy.
Her normally smooth and silky jet black hair was now knotted up. Amy's skin were the ones of a ghost, pale and white, figuratively almost translucent. Normally, her dark brown irises reminded me of hot chocolate, warm and fuzzy. But now, it reminded me of a pool of mud-rather fitting too, as I was currently trapped in a sticky situation.
"A-Amy." I stuttered, the guilt crystal clear in my voice. I didn't bother to hide it. If looks could kill, that murderous expression of hers would have slain a tiger.
"Stampy." she growled, a frown running across her lips. "After all this time."
Hell, if there wasn't that malcontented look in her brown eyes and those arms on her hips, I would've been very tempted to say "Always."
"Listen, I'm sorry-"
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" The next thing I knew, there were the ear-splitting sounds of glass shattering, how(ell)s of fury,
