In the middle of the night, when my life came to an end, I never thought it would end like this…
I was on my knees, hands slick with blood. The drops glistened on the floor. My face was pale, my eyes wide — trembling, breathless, terrified.
But that night wasn't supposed to end like this.
It all started weeks ago, when everything still felt normal… i guess
Zoey: Of course, everyone thinks I'm the perfect girl with the perfect life. But nope, I wished that too..
I heard my mother shouting again, telling me to wake up and get ready for school.
"Ugh, I'm up, Mother."
I dragged myself out of bed and glanced out the window. For a moment, something in the view made my throat go dry — a memory I didn't want to remember. I shook it off, got dressed in my uniform, and headed out.
As usual, my mother's voice followed me, complaining that I hadn't had breakfast. Her fake sweet smile flashed in my mind. It creeps me out sometimes… maybe because I know it's all fake.
"Woah," Bella says. "Watch where you're going, psycho."
I look at her, ugh. I've hated this girl since my first day at school. Same Bella, the popular, perfect, beauty-queen type who thinks she owns everyone around her. It's not that I'm jealous or anything, but what annoys me is that no one else seems to see through her.
"Helloooo?"
Her annoying voice snaps me out of my thoughts. She's staring at me like I'm some kind of rat in a maze.
"Umm, sorry," I mumble, brushing past her and rushing to class. It's better to stay away from that glitter rainbow anyway.
As I walk into class, I see him. Lucas.
Yeah, like every cliché story, mine's got a love triangle too
an obsessively messed-up one.
I never fall for that sweet, soft-boy type… but him? He's the one I melt for. The boy with the perfect posture, the pretty eyes — oh, those lips — and that calm, quiet vibe that makes my heart skip.
I snap out of it before he notices me staring. Don't need to prove the "Zoey-is-psycho" rumors right.
After a few seconds of pretending not to exist, I slip into my usual seat — second-last row, next to the wall.
My eyes drift to the window again. That same strange chill hits my throat, but I shove it down.
I open my notebook — the one I was doodling in yesterday — and stare at the eyes I drew. Eyes crying… not tears, but blood.
The teacher starts talking.
And just like that, another day begins — with the same voices whispering in my mind.
....Z.....