PROLOUGE

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( PROLOUGE )

" in the beginning ! "

all chapters written in first personafter this

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"MOM," LAYLA MORGEN'S blond-haired head peeked around her door, her nose scrunched up in frustration. She was running late for her flight and hadn't even packed her clothes yet. She was beginning to think her Netflix procrastination session last night had not been the best idea.

"Mom!" she calls louder this time, not caring if she wakes her step-father at this ungodly hour of 4:00 am. She has no siblings to worry about waking, but her neighbors in the apartment next to her might not be so pleased.

The blond waits another moment before giving an exasperated sigh, retreating back into her room. It looked like her closet had exploded. Her clothes were strewn everywhere, suitcase splayed open on her bed. She assessed the situation, blue eyes wandering over the mountains of clothes. She couldn't find her favorite sweater.

"Layla!" her mother's voice calls. Layla checks her alarm clock. It's 5:45 am. Shit, I'm going to be late, her mind goes into overdrive. She shoved piles of clothes into her suitcase, zipping it up as best she could with its contents. She throws on her coat, a huge blanket of a thing, and throws her hair into a bun with one hand.

"Coming" she cries out, tripping down the stairs with her luggage. Her mother waits at the bottom, a hand on her slim hips. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, showcasing her high cheekbones and smile lines. She laughs as Layla stumbles down, grabbing the suitcase from her daughter as she tries to, unsuccessfully, slip on her converse with her one free hand.

The teen follows her mother out of their apartment, and down the stairs to the street below. Although it's still the early hours of the morning, the dim street lights cast a glow on a few cars moving in the road. Layla glances at the clock in their car as her mother starts the engine. 6:21 am. They're going to be late.











23/4/19
authors note |
oh hey there
            welcome !

status | rewritten
edited

dimples  (wyatt oleff)Where stories live. Discover now