𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔟𝔬𝔶 • max

two

i woke up at around 2:36pm, and i groaned at the thought of me waking up in the first place.

today, i would have to go back with my mother in brooklyn. not much of a big deal, but that means id have to see him again.

getting up from the bed, i was met with the smell of pancakes and sausage. i followed the smell to the kitchen table.

"good morning," my dad smiled. i smiled as well and mumbled a good morning back.

"i saw some blood on the bathroom counter," he sat at the table as well, preparing his plate.

"i-i had a nosebleed," i shoved some of the pancake into my mouth.

"the blood was bright red - i doubt it was due to a nosebleed," my father did the same and sipped some water.

"i..." no excuses, i told myself. "im sorry. i couldnt help it."

my dad sighed, and took my hand into his. "if you ever do this again, i have to let your mother know. you told me you stopped-"

"i know!" i snapped. he let go of my hand and brought his hands back to his sides. "i know..."

"do you wanna go outside? down to the plaza?" he suggested carefully. i look up at him and nod.

~

the elevator stopped at the third floor, and i walked out. opening the door to the outside, i made eye contact with a pigeon.

it hopped its way toward me, eyeing the small bread crumbs at my shoes. i kicked them closer to the bird and watched as it flew away with some in its beak.

i made my way over to the playground, sitting at the bench that was against the metal fencing that separated sudden death from small children. suddenly, a rock hit the back of my head.

"what the fuck?" i look behind me, down into the sidewalk and see the same girl from last night.

she waved up at me and i rolled my eyes, slumping down into the bench once more. yet again, another rock hit my head.

"can you stop?" i ask. the girl giggles and is pulled away by a lanky, redheaded dude. the boy with poofy hair that i saw yesterday shouted a small "sorry" and walked off, following the two who seemed to be walking toward the hudson river.

a rock hit me again, and before i could shout at whoever threw it, i noticed a note was tied to it. i opened up the paper.

a small series of numbers caught my attention, next to some words.

'call me.'

i smirk, and shove the paper into my pocket. of course, theres a pain in the back of my head both from trying to figure out who threw that rock and from the pain of three fucking rocks hitting me in the same area in a span of two minutes.