Chapter Thirteen

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              Annabelle couldn't say that she was heartbroken, she doesn't love Harry in that way, but to say she was heartbroken would be saying the least.

So many negative thoughts were roaming through Annabelle's mind; thoughts about not being worth Harry's time, wondering why she were so naive and childish, so giddy. Annabelle wondered why she felt so strongly about Harry in such a short amount of time spent together, and soon began to think that Harry hadn't felt the same for her.

No more texting him, Annabelle decided, no more making sure she looks good when she goes out in public, and no more purposely going out to hope that Harry will find her. No more imagining herself with him and tricking herself into things like this.

Annabelle let herself cry a bit, to get her feelings out. She already learned the hard way about what happens when you hold in your emotions too much.

When she was finished self-loathing and moping around, she took a shower, and went to bed, with her mind finally clear and not thinking about Harry, for once.

"Wake up!" Her mother shouted, banging on the wall downstairs. She kept her eyes closed, turning over and covering her head with the pillow. "Annabelle, if I don't see you down here in the next two seconds," her mother shouted, still banging on the wall. Annabelle wanted to scream, and shout, to the top of her lungs. She wanted to call her a bitch to her face.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, even though they were still closed, and laid in bed. Not was she just tired and lazy, but she wanted to see what Julie would do if she didn't get up. Spite: it's a dreadful thing.

A few minutes later, she came into Annabelle's room, pulling the covers off of her body and throwing them into the floor.

"Get up." She said, sternly. Annabelle made no sound, not even moving a muscle. She acted as if she were dead. "I am going to dump this bucket of cold water on you in three... Two..." Annabelle heard the swishing of water, and could tell she actually had a bucket of water. "One..." She said, then sighed, and dumped the water on Annabelle's legs, soaking her and her mattress.

Here's the worst part; it was hot water. Like, scolding h o t.

Annabelle did her best to hold in her scream as she jumped up. Annabelle knew she be okay. She usually showers in hot water anyway, but she was furious. Julie soaked her, and her bed, and practically burned her legs.

Annabelle pushed Julie back by her shoulders, grabbing the bucket and pouring the last few drops onto her chest. Julie felt the burn and flinched. Her eyes went wide.

"Annabelle, I'm sorry, I thought it was cold water!" She gasped, looking down at Annabelle's legs.

Annabelle threw the bucket out of the door with such force, it made a crack in the wall in the hallway. She sternly pointed to the door, telling her mother to leave. She did as Annabelle instructed, and right after she slammed her door shut, Julie mumbled.

"We're going to the Styles' for lunch in an hour."

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