❝ I don't even know why I even think of him so much, but I do, and it hurts.❞
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A boy by the name of Lucas Middleton dies of a terminal illness, and with an assembly in school, his death changes the lives of a peculiar group of people.
A story that...
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ISABELLA
CHAPTER SIX - "STRANGER"
OCTOBER 23RD, TUESDAY
"BEEP!"
The loud and sudden noise made me jump from my seat, letting out an involuntary, high-pitched scream as the startling noise stopped, and was replaced by entertained and amused chuckles from a familiar voice.
I felt blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment as I glared at the figure standing in front of me, an all-knowing smile plastered on her lips. A bright, red air-horn held in her hand, and her other in the pocket of her loose-fitting hoodie.
"Why, hello to you too," Bethany greeted teasingly, placing the metallic can down on the desk. I stared at my sister with a blank expression before pinching the bridge of my nose, sighing in annoyance.
She shrugged. "Needed to get your attention somehow."
Moments later, she practically threw herself onto the soft surface of my bed, the previously neat covering of green blanket now wrinkled and displaced. I stared at her, confused.
Suddenly, she asked, "So, what happened on Friday?"
Fuck.
Her question caused the steady metronome of my heart to skip an anxious beat, resulting in me spinning my office chair to face away from her.
In the most obvious tone I could muster, I replied in a mockingly and confused way, "I went to a party with one of my friends?"
Bethany looked at me, raising one of her brows as she twiddled and played with the green fabric between her fingers. "You have friends?"
Fucking asshole.
I let out a gasp, dramatically holding a hand to my chest and watched as Bethany laughed and chuckled at my expression, running his fingers through her deep, rich, chestnut hair.
I brushed my pale, brown ones to the side of my face, suddenly more aware of the brown strands than ever.
A dull, boring, monotone mop of hair, cut short and pointing in different directions after the endless amount of times my fingers had run through them.
Uninteresting, simple, and dull, much like the girl who was the holder.
The same shade of brown as the hair that belonged to the man, who left as soon as he discovered responsibilities were mandatory for his actions.
Bethany sighed, picking up the photo frame from the nightstand beside my bed. She glanced at the image momentarily before hastily resting it on the wooden surface again, standing up from the bed and searching for something else to toy with.
