The new girl and the bad boy

#15 eager much

Eager much

I was woken up by a knock at my door, I opened my eyes lazily as I watched someone open my door and walk in. The light from the hallway blinded me a little and caused me to flinch but I didn’t say anything.

“Sophie, are you okay?” I stayed silent, I wasn’t going to talk unless I really had to or if the person I was talking to could bring back my Grace. “Please talk to me, I’m your brother” he persisted.

I just stared at the wall like I had done all day. He let out a sigh and then came and sat on my bed.

“You’re holding it all in, I know it’s difficult because she was my family too,”

‘But she wasn’t your daughter’- I wanted to say to him, but what use was that going to do? It wasn’t going to bring her back to me. It would be a waste of my breath.

“But please, we’re going to get her back- I promise you.”

‘That isn’t a promise you can make’ I wanted to scream at him, but still, what use would it be? Crying and screaming doesn’t help, that’s why I kept everything inside. I mean, yeah I cried but I didn’t want to be weak and soon I created a wall between me and the world. It’s stupid because people are trying to help me, but I just couldn’t think of a life without my baby girl.

“If you ever need to talk, or want to talk, I’ll be right there ready” he said before standing up and walking out the door. I closed my eyes again, wanting to sleep. When you sleep, your problems aren’t on your mind and you are safe from what you’re scared of and what could hurt you emotionally and mentally in your dreams.

I opened my eyes again, not feeling like sleeping anymore. Too much was rushing around my head, too many thoughts shouting inside of my and it had gotten to the point where I couldn’t block them out. I got up and raked around my closet looking for something of mine, something I hadn’t use in a long time, and something I hoped I wouldn’t have to use again anytime soon. My hands trembled a little, all the memories of the times when I had used this before rushing back to me, the bad especially hitting me hard. I went back to my bed and sat with it in my hands, my fingers running over it carefully like it could break at any moment. I took in a shaky breath and closed my eyes for a second, calming down a little. A part of me hoping that I’ll be calm enough not to do this, but knowing deep down I need to do this, I had reached my point of no return for this, and I had to accept that. I opened my eyes again and stared down at the object in my hands.

My old diary.

You might be wondering why I made it sound so dramatic; it’s the simple fact that after my life went on a downward spiral before, I was advised to write everything down into this diary, and a few others, to get everything out and not keep it in and cause myself to do stupid things or suffer a break down. I loved doing this for the simple reason being that nobody knew where it was, and I could tell it anything without it feeling bothered about the amount of shit that had happened to me.

I didn’t just write all the negatives in life, I wrote down all the good stuff that happened as well. I mean, for a while it was all negative and sad and angry and hurt but then it started to blossom into happier, sometimes awkward situations that I was in, and I don’t mean the bad awkward, I’ve had funny awkward that made me crack a smile when it was a battle for everyone else to find a way to make me even show the ghost of a smile.