* * *
Another stone thrown at my balcony window. At first I thought it was my mind playing tricks with me or it was just an illusion but when the second stone hit I was proved wrong. It was followed by a third stone as soon a fourth one. I am particularly not interested in going outside the window and checking because I have a book report on The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost.
The stones keep hitting distracting me from doing my work. I groan loudly as I get up from my bed and move towards the balcony. Sliding the balcony door open I find nothing but a piece of paper with a black rose on top of it. The live of paper is blue, light blue and dull yellow in colour.
I reach out towards the letter carefully making sure that I don't step on the countless number of sharp stones that could cut my leg and injure me severely. I stand at the edge of my balcony with a rose that has its thorn embedded in my skin and a letter in my other hand. I slowly open it holding back a breath which certainly doesn't release after I see it.
My face looses its colour and I stare in shock at the note. I am so engrossed in it that I do not realize that my hands are bleeding tremendously. This complicates so many things. It fastens the process by days and maybe weeks. What had to be done next year will have to be done this year.
Maybe tonight or tomorrow. Maybe the day after or maybe not. None of us are safe now. Not all of us are going to live.
You're the one who wanted him. You are the one who missed him. You are the one who has to pay the price along with million others. It's all your fault. You shouldn't have started any of this.
My inner voice scolds me again and again. The doorbell rings and I freeze. I close the balcony door and put on my lenses and wig and move downstairs.
It will be a perfect time to kill me, won't it? Hayden and Amelia have gone to watch a movie. Abigail is with her Barbie-Friends and I am home alone. Stopping by the kitchen before I open the door I grab a butcher knife.
Just in case.
I make my way towards the door cautiously and the doorbell rings again. I open the door ready to attack when I see four idiots staring at me intensely. All of them wondering why I am holding a knife like a crazy person.
''Hi,'' I say awkwardly and Xavier scratches his neck.
Cute!
Wait WHAT?????
Oh My God! I did not just say that. Nope. I did not say that. I did not regard him as cute even though he totally is.
Uggghhhh!!!!
What is wrong with this stupid head of mine? Why me? He isn't cute. He isn't cute. He isn't cute.
Just because you repeat it in your head a thousand times it does not mean it is not true.
KILL MEEEEEE!!! And you voice in my head can't you just shut up for once. Your never there when I need you to but now you're here dropping your wise words of wisdom on me. Honestly, why am I freaking out? Thousands of girls think boys are cute. It's alright.
"You there, love?" Xavier asks me snapping me out of my trance.
Uh-oh!
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" I let out a nervous laugh,"Where are my manners, would you like to come in?" I finish desperately trying to change the topic.
They come in and look around my bungalow. The living room has a big chandelier. Right below that there is a sofa with a home theatre in front.
"Your house is beautiful," Nathan comments.
Xavier says something which he doesn't expect me to know but I hear it. It goes something along the line, "Just like you!"
My heart goes into over drive and suddenly becomes a gymnast doing somersaults and flips.
Not all of us will live and there might be a possibility that you might die after all of this ends.
Keep Your Distance.
***
Katrina's House
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