Nonexistent strings

Meeting the mysterious

Laura's POV

Almost one in the morning, and I was still sitting on the desk doing math homework. I am starting to frustrate when the answer of one exercise wasn't the same as the clue on the edge of the paper. But to be honest, who would want to stay up all night doing homework when you could be laying on bed sleeping peacefully?

"Ugh," I let out a frustrated groan putting both of my hands on my head and put the notebook away reluctantly with the pencils on it.

I gave up wanting to find the answer of that one exercise and walked to the mattress located in the middle of my room plopping myself on the queen sized bed and closing my eyes trying to find some sleep.

But I wasn't sleepy anymore.

I sighed once again and took my phone from the nightstand. I opened some social media sites before going on Instagram to see what's new on life, to like some pictures or to just check on my notifications.

Sadly, someone reposted a photo coming from another username that I don't follow for obvious reason and just seeing the tagged people and reading her name gave me chills.

Oh look, she is still the same slut I met years ago.

Her name is Skyler Morgan.

It really fits her.

Since I was in sophomore, out of nowhere, started to criticize everything I did and how I did it. The way I dressed, how I talked, the words I used: everything; she always find something to make me feel less than everyone else but throughout the years, I learned they are just words.

Without any importance.

Even though, sometimes they can make a really deep cut.

Like a typical enemies story, we were friends. Actually, best friends.

She just stopped talking to me and put me aside totally forgetting I even existed or that we breath the same air.

Or go to the same high school.

In the photo, everything was black and just some neon lights colored the background. She was sitting on her current boyfriend's lap, Jaden, and next to them was her best friend doing some kind of silly pose, kaylee.

Current because she recycles her boyfriends every one month.

If I count how many relationships she has had in this year, I would be needing more hands.

I shut my phone and put it back on the nightstand looking at the ceiling above me thinking. Just thinking about everything that is happening on my daily life.

But trying to not think too much because then I would have headache.

I let out a sigh before standing up from my comfortable laying position on the bed and started to walk to the balcony opening the two doors. The first thing my eyes caught, was a moving truck parked on the driveway and a van behind it. There were three people taking out the things on the van and other two unloading boxes from the truck.

They were young, not more than twenty-two and not less than eighteen.

The two people on the truck took one box per person and walked inside of the house, holding the heavy boxes.