Chapter 4 - Aibileen

Four years later...

I'm 17 now. I'm still writing. But now I'm serious about it. I'm seeking an agent who actually likes my style. My mother still disapproves, but she's warming to it. I think it might be the fact that nothing she can do can stop me, short of killing me. She's trying to make it up to me, though, she's bought me a new laptop for my 16th birthday and gave me her old printer that she never even opened.
The story I started on when I was thirteen, about vampires, has turned into home-bound book, on my overflowing, slightly bent bookshelf. It marked a start of a new genre of book for me. I've done about 20 different vampire books, each one lost somewhere in the mess of my room, and I have lists of detailed plots that have I never used.
There are five large metal shelves in my room along with two bookcases, all full of books, mostly ones by me. Anyway, I flick open my blue laptop. I click onto my current story, start typing. After a while my mind begins to wander and I gaze out the window at the cloudless sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a pale teenager, wearing a black hoody, staring up into my window, I jump, because for some reason he looks familiar, even though I'm sure I've never seen him in my life. I return to my laptop, and that's when it dawns on me. He looks like an older version of the guy I saw outside, in the rain, when I was 13. I shiver and look back out my window, but to my disappointment he's gone.