Amelia's POV :-
I bolted, fully awake, with a gasp of breath.
The smoke gradually dissipates from the air, leaving my breathing heavy.
Drops of sweat trickle down my body, giving the impression that I've been running for miles.
For milliseconds, it's difficult to even open the eyelids because of how badly the head stammers.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself against the headboard and close my eyes to return to reality.
Now that the gray sheets are rolled up on the bed with wrinkles, I can't help but want to fix how they seem.
The thin white curtains in the window directly behind me were blowing in the fall breeze.
My room has a warm, vibrant vibe.
Hold on.
My room?
How did I get home?
Pictures from last night flash before my eyes.
Daniel leaves early. Time with Chris. Ian.
Ian was meant to drop me off at home.
But why am I unable to recall anything?
I closed my eyes and massaged my aching head.
I attempted to recall the events from last night while wiping sweat that was streaming down my forehead with the sleeve of my white shirt.
I'm suddenly very conscious of what I'm wearing.
It's not my shirt.
Who changed my dress?
Oh Lord.
My mind is racing, wildly swirling.
Oh no. Not at all.
I didn't drink that shit, did I?
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" I let out a shout of frustration as I grabbed at my hair with both hands.
"I must know what happened later that night." I prepare myself, determined to know what went down there.
"And Ian Castillo is the only one who is aware of that."
Why must he be the only one for fuck sake?
I gathered all the courage in the universe and got ready for school.
My mother has departed for the day based on the fact that I did not see her at the breakfast table.
Sigh.
Something doesn't change.
There are moments when I wonder what it's like to be loved by your own mother.
The one person I can actually call family, who'll always fill in the void in my heart,.
How does it feel?
Like, my grandmother loved me so much?
like my feelings for her?
similar to my love of sculpture?
Something that feels comforting to you? eased?
Does her abstaining from me indicate that there's anything wrong with me?
Do I not deserve her care and affection?
I grow envious every time I hear girls in school talking about how their moms shop for them, go to salons with them, and make them set for their first date.
They have such a strong role model in their lives, and I wish I had one.
They sleep soundly in their mother's arms as I sob myself to sleep.
Their mom's had made hot chocolates for them while I freaked out about dying when I got my first period.
During my several unsuccessful attempts to learn how to braid my hair, they arrived at school showing off their wonderfully knotted ribbons.
Envy. jealousy. resentment.
Swallowing up the emotions stuck in my throat and causing tears to well up in my eyes, I reach for my bag.
Skipping breakfast, I head to school.
It's not like she would care.
What the hell did I stir that night? I have to know.
Saint Paul's High School is a genuine castle, with most of the campus's buildings composed of lovely white brick.
Elegant outdoor spaces, well-kept walkways, and striking architecture.
Both sides of the entryway have well-kept, well-manicured lawns with an eye-catching arrangement of various plants and flowers.
In order to make a visually appealing display, it could contain a combination of annuals and perennials with various colors and textures.
To make the structure seem more appealing, money has been raised.
Gazing at the structure, I let its beauty lodge itself in my consciousness.
I will miss this place.
With artwork hanging on the side walls, the hallway is constructed in an attractive Spanish Baroque style using Locharbriggs red sandstone.
As I turned to the left, I ran into a strong, well-built person, which caused my backpack to fall to the ground.
"Crap. Well, you're as tough as a stone, man." Closing my eyes, I muttered to myself, rubbing my forehead.
I move back and open my eyes, only to look into the unfathomable, ocean-blue eyes of the bottomless sea.
How are those eyes so beautiful?
What a charming face.
Extremely marvelous.
His lips move, drawing my attention.
So full and velvety pink.
Do guys have pink lips too?
I cock my head to the side, admiring the living beauty before me.
His messy, jet-black hair was disheveled on top of his head, beckoning me to run my fingers through it.
His eyelashes, which sat so elegantly on his eyelids, were thicker and longer than those of most of the girls.
Though not this close, I have always thought he was really attractive.
"You're gorgeous," I whisper to myself in dizziness, fairly audible.
He's gazing at me like I'm an alien asking him for a dance.
My creative observation is shattered into bits by a clearing of the throat, which returns me to earth.
A second person is standing next to Ian, and he has a mischievous smile on his lips.
Chris.
Holy shit.
But regardless, what was I doing?
I felt the blood rush to my face, revealing my embarrassment.
I shut my eyes, giving myself a mental kick.
When I open my eyes, I give them an awkward smile.
"Hi, Ami. Are you alright?" Chris waves his hand casually in my direction, passing my backpack to me and smiling like an idiot.
"Well... Chris, hello. I'm alright. My phone was left in the car. I'll just grab it up." Taking my bag, I hurried past them, rambling.
"Isn't the parking lot on this side, Amelia?" This time, a deep voice is what makes my spine shiver.
I turned around, saw him pointing a thumb in the other route and realized he was right.
I'm sprinting in the opposite direction.
Mother Earth just eats me alive, and I promise not to complain.
Ian has both of his ankles crossed, an elbow placed on Chris's shoulder, leaning on him.
A mocking smile on his lips as he watches me with satisfaction plastered all over their features.
It's entertaining for him.
Crude rascal.
"Oh. I know, of course. I'll be back."
I saw Ian chuckling and shaking his head softly, and Chris laughing like a crazy person clutching his stomach,
before I fled like a coward to save myself from any further humiliation,
Take me with you, God, please.
I am ready to die.
I'm done with my life, I swear.
(A/N :- poor Ami. I feel bad for her, but it's entertaining to see her embarrassing herself in front of her enemy. Guys tell me in comments if you love this chapter. Do vote.)