26 December 2012
My eyes teared up as I sat on my soft, tear covered bed. Danny was dead, I was at the funeral. How can he have called? It can't be him, it can't be. I couldn't think straight. I tried to stand up, my legs barely holding up my weight, and slowly stumbled over to the bathroom.
The cold water poured over my scarred skin. The water was refreshing and calmed me down. I attempted to sort out my thoughts, but everything was tangled up in to a big cluster of thoughts that made no sense. Pictures of Danny flashed in my mind. I fell to the cold, hard stone floor and started crying. Frantically I ran my fingers through my hair and tears spilled down my cheeks, mixing with the cold water. Slowly I crawled out of the shower and grabbed a towel. I stood up and looked in the mirror. A girl looked back at me. Her hair was a mess, her pale white lips were just a thin line, and she had sad and tired eyes. I couldn't even recognise her. KNOCK KNOCK!! My thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the bathroom door. "Who is it?" I demanded, feeling my voice trembling. My parents weren't coming home until next week. Then who was on the other side of that wooden door?
The Call 2 • Opuss № I