I was shivering, but I wasn't cold.
I could still practically hear my mothers sobbing downstairs and my brother trying to soothe her and calm her down. She tried to come in my room about 15 minutes ago, but my door was locked and I didn't want to get up and open it.
I just wanted to sit on the edge of my bed and stare off into space, recalling the events that happened.
After they arrested Trey and asked me a couple questions (that I couldn't answer without stuttering and tripping over my words) I slowly walked back to my room and sat on my bed and here I was.
Maybe I didn't want her to come in. Maybe I blame her for this.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
Half of me blames myself. I shouldn't have kept my door unlocked.
But why? Why should I blame myself when my mother didn't tell me her boyfriend -who was practically still a stranger to me- was sleeping over?
The thought hurt me. My own mother. I felt betrayed and hurt.
My father. He was probably looking down from the sky, not believing his eyes.
I felt tears run down my face.
Suddenly anger arose from me. I don't know where it came from but it came with full force. I felt it bubbling inside me with the tears that continued to fall down my face.
My own mother. How could she do this to our family?! Bring this man into our house and tear us apart!
A loud angry cry escaped my throat and I found myself stomping around my room, I wanted to punch the wall. I was angry. I usually never become this angry, but maybe this was a different anger.
I started throwing things off my dresser and kicking stuff. I felt like a giant, destroying a little town, but I knew that from afar I looked like a kid having a tantrum.
As I was just about to knock over the dresser that had my dad's old necklace on it, I felt a pair of arms pulling me away.
"Cait! What are you doing?!"
I yanked out of their grip and my teary eyes focused on the figure of Dillon Taylor.
"How many times are you going to just show up in my room?!" I barked.
"As many times as I want I suppose." He smirked.
That's when I choked out a sob and slumped onto the floor. He just didn't know how to stop. He was so obnoxious.
Dillon's face went from a smirk, to a terrified, worried face.
He sinked down after me and the next thing I knew he was embracing me.
Wait. He was actually wrapping his arms around me and... hugging me.
I wanted to move away but I couldn't. I felt protected and safe and warm. That horrible angry feeling went away.
"It'll be okay." I told her softly.
I don't know why, but my arms were still wrapped around her frail body. She was very cold.
This is not like me. I don't ever feel... feelings. I don't feel sympathy for other people. Ever since I was a little child, I never let people know how I felt. I grew up that way. Now, I'm 17 and my feelings hide behind my dark clothes and rude attitude.
And I like it that way. Or at least I think I do?
Yes, I do. I like the way I am.
"How do you know if it'll be okay?" Cait asked in such a small voice, I almost couldn't hear her.
"Because... I just do." I replied and rubbed her back.
I couldn't lie and say this wasn't uncomfortable. I haven't given someone an actual hug in... a year or two?
"Why are you doing this?" She asked suddenly, moving away from my arms a bit, but still staying very close to me. She looked at me with a confused frown. I could see the specks of gold in her now, sad brown eyes
"Doing what?" I asked, acting puzzled, but I knew what she meant.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Cait answered.
I looked away for a moment and stayed silent.
I understood that Cait was having a hard time and needed someone to be there for her. Even if it was the annoying boy next door who is me. The boy that she will hate for the rest of her life.
"I... I don't know." I muttered.
"I thought we hated each other, and now we're hugging." Cait said.
I chucked a bit, but Cait didn't.
She had this emotionless look on her face.
I wonder what she was thinking.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
She continued to stare at me, and then the next thing I knew her lips were on mine.
YOU ARE READING
The Bad Boy Stole My DiaryTeen Fiction
"I love how innocent you act, but I know you're not." **************************** My dad had given me a simple journal that I thought I'd never use. When I found out he died in a car crash, that next week, I decided to start writing all my feeling...