Chapter three

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The next day was Saturday, so when I opened my eyes at around 10am (an APPROPRIATE hour) I only rolled out of bed and pulled my tangled, brunette hair into loose, lazy braids as I put on my glasses with a sigh. I had already finished all my homework, which my teachers had so graciously assigned over the weekend, so I could write all I wanted today...
Adjusting my glasses frames, I turned to my desk, pausing before heading towards it, caught off guard by the sight. My writing journal sat open to the first page, a pencil laying flatly along the spine of the paper. My brows furrowed.
That was off...
I was sure I had left it closed.
Who had opened it...?
I swear, mom, if you've been poking your nose in my stories again...
But wait... If my mom had been reading it, why did she leave it open, looking so untouched and tidy? Besides that, it was sitting stilly on the very first page. The whole ordeal was bizarre, needless to say, but even still, I dismissed it in that moment, shrugging and sitting at the desk to start writing. As I picked up the pencil and started to turn the pages, I found myself hesitating on the taped pageー the one those girls had ruined. I felt a twist in my stomach.
Those girls...
It made my blood boil to think about what they'd done, and how I'd foolishly let it bother me. It was, even now. Biting on my lip and brushing the thought away, I kept turning, but as I reached the place I left off, no ideas flowed through my pencil. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think of how to continue.
I had too much on my mind, it seemed...
I knew to leave it. I knew that I should be better than this, and yet...
I found myself flicking back to that same torn, battered page. My expression unchanging, I raised my hand and lightly traced along the taped edges. Poor story... It deserved to be treated better than this. At least, I thought so...
This was the place where I could be an Evangeline. Was it not fair to let me have just a little of that? I guess no one else could possibly understand.
The silence of my bedroom hung in the atmosphere as I stayed looking at the tattered page, lost in thought. I wondered if it would make me feel better to just rewrite it...
As my fingers traced the page, I started to notice something. It felt oddly warm...
Where was it coming from? The pages...?
My brows furrowing, I leaned closer, noticing that the page not only emanated warmth, but was also beginning to glow.
What was...?
There was no time to think. There was no time to question. I couldn't even make a sound as I, within milliseconds, was no longer in my room.
Noー as crazy as it seemed, I had fallen forward.
Straight into my storybook.

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