If You Want Me Too, I Will (Beatle Fan Fiction)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I sleep is my favorite part of the day, or night I guess. It when I get to dream about whatever there is in my lobes and brain. I can dream of being somewhere else, in a place where things happen the way I want them too. I could meet all the characters in the books, a select few would be there, the few I'm happy to see. And the ending would be the perfect ending, how I ever I felt it should be.

But I had to open my eyes and look up at the ceiling this morning, and it was less grand as I wanted it would be. I rubbed my eyes, noticing how it was blurry enough, and how that annoyed me enough. I sat up, swinging my legs over the side, and smacking my lips a bit, while scratching the side of my head. I walked out of my room, and into the bathroom, making sure not to hurt myself by tripping over something for being so stupidly tired.

I locked the door, quickly discarding on my shirt and loose pants I wore to bed, with my undergarments. I stared a moment at the bath, sighing at it, noticing how it was different from the one I had in America but not caring enough about it to do anything.

I quickly filled up the bath, with water as warm as I could muster. I slipped into it and tried my best to relax, thinking that's what normal people do when they take a bath and that I might as well do the same thing.

After slowly washing my body and my hair, trying to make myself not smell like sleep, or look like that either, I got out, letting the water drain quickly and wrapping a towel around me, a white towel that I had never used before in my life. I look into the mirror, my face emotionless about it all. I turned back towards the door and slipped back into my room.

While pulling on some pants I found, that were clean enough to wear, a bra, and a nice enough shirt, with my recognizable jacket. I finished up drying my hair, not giving a damn it if looked nice but still brushing it once anyway. I grabbed my glasses and shoved them on my face, throwing my towel on my unmade bed, and finally left my bedroom.

"Good morning Dewey," He stuck his nose up at me, that Marshall smirk on his face as always. I blinked a bit at him, "Looking as boring as always,"

"Hm, I guess so," I scratched my forehead a little bit, and turned to rush down the stairs, pushing my glasses back up a little bit. I turned into the kitchen of our small home, seeing my mother wearing her apron as always and boiling eggs for my brother. I never really asked her to make me anything, and she never did for breakfast. I just grabbed an apple from the basket that had all the fruit and slowly smashed my teeth into it.

"How was your first night in a new bed Danielle?" It was small talk, there was so much she could say, and she went with small talk.

"As good as any other," My reply was short and quick, as I took another bite, this time chewing slower to avoid the conversation as well as I possibly could do. My mother sighed some, a long and dragged out sigh to tell me she was disappointed with our slowly dying relationship.

"Alright, well first day at a new school today! Aren't you excited?" She looked back at me, with this fake smile again, hoping I would act excited whether I wanted to or not. I should be like her, and I should be happy. Yet, I'm neither.

"Not really," I took another bite, standing up and bringing my apple with me, but just walking out to grab my boots by the front door, and bringing it back to the kitchen, where I sat back at the table. I crunched another bite, and began to pull on my brown boots. My mother hated them, they do not match to anything, which is the reason I bought them.

"Oh don't wear those shoes! It might not make a good impression," I looked over at her, and blinked a bit. She turned back to the stove, and I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly shut it back again. There is so much to say, and I didn't say it.