"Come on." Frustrated, Kris sighs as she struggles to clip her webcam on the top of her laptop screen. She pulls her hand away and smiles when it doesn't fall down. Her laptop, probably considered an ancient artifact in the tech world, takes several seconds loading until a blurred image of her appears on the screen. She reaches over and gently adjusts the lens of the camera. It can't be more than five megapixels so, when the image finally does focus, she still looks a bit grainy. Oh well, it'll work.

Kristen Levesque is your average high school student. She's naturally pretty, but most people don't notice since she often doesn't dress up or wear an ounce of make-up. She has long, wavy brown hair that drops just past her shoulders. Her normal routine consists of straightening it and just parting her bangs to the side. Nothing too fancy.

Her room is a bit of a mess. Dirty clothes are piled up on the floor behind her with her comforter tossed over them. The walls are empty and bland; the only thing hanging from it is a small, crooked mirror. Cardboard boxes are still piled against the wall behind her from when her family moved here almost a year ago. Part of her wants to finish unpacking, but deep down she still doesn't feel like this is home. Then again, that whole 'home' concept has always seemed rather foreign to her.

She sits on the corner of her bed, facing the wall with her back exposed to the room, and reaches over for her guitar. She takes a deep breath before touching the mouse pad and scrolling over on her computer to press the 'Record' button. It flashes red. She begins to pluck at the strings of her guitar.

"Driving away from the wreck of the day and the light's always red in the rearview." It's a cover of a song by Anna Nalick, and Kris sings it beautifully. Her voice has a soft, soothing rhythm to it. "Desperately close to a coffin of hope—"

A knock comes from her bedroom door, interrupting her. She glances over, annoyed. "Are you serious?!" she mumbles under her breath and she slams down on the mouse pad to press the 'Stop Recording'. She tosses her guitar on the bed as she gets to her feet.

"This better be good!" She walks over to her bedroom door and yanks it open.

Daniel, her little brother, stands in the doorway as he looks up at her. He's a cute twelve-year-old with short frizzy brown hair and bright blue eyes. A large smile stretches across his face.

She rolls her eyes, already sensing a question coming. "No."

"But—"

Before he can get out another word she shuts the door in his face. A few seconds pass and he knocks again.

Kris opens the door. "Where do you want to go?"

"Jaden said that his mom bought him the new Black Ops and she said we could come over and have game night." He's way too excited.

She cocks an eyebrow. "And does Jaden's mom know that tomorrow you guys have school?" She glances at her wristwatch. "And that it's already 8:30?"

"Come on, please!" His hands clasp together as he begs dramatically. "I'll be home by ten!"

"Yeah right. Black Ops. Boys. You would be up until first period tomorrow." She leans down to face him. "Look, tomorrow's Friday. Tell him to ask his mom if you can have a game night or something. Then I'll be your Uber and you can stay up as late as you want."

He sighs, glancing down at the floor with his puppy dog eyes. "Okay," he pouts.

"Oh, and Danny..."

His head jerks back up to look at her, a sliver of hope that she might change her mind still in his head.

"I've told you before. When it says 'Do Not Disturb'... Do. Not. Disturb." Her eyes narrow as she slams the door shut, and a plastic cutout with a handwritten 'Do Not Disturb' sign, poorly scribbled with a marker, sways from the rusted doorknob.

The Truth HurtsRead this story for FREE!