MasukFebruary 3rd, 2017
Lacey's POV:
"D-Did you know that bullfrogs--"
"Shh, silence", he pats my head while guiding me up the stairs. Wait, I barely know this dude... and who the hell pats anyone else over 8 ON THE HEAD. I would have freaked out on this guy instantly, but I can't move. Glancing around the room, I spot people everywhere: the DJ, girls in the pool, my friends, but none are alerted.
Help! This crazy guy is taking me upstairs! Help!--Wait these are thoughts. No one can hear me.
"Ch-Chad, can we just go down to the party?", I stutter.
"We're just going up for some air, shh", he whispers into my ear. Air? AIR?! Put me DOWN! I panic, but it's all in my head because I still can't move. This is why I fucking hate parties. There's nothing I would want to do more at this moment than sit in bed with a large textbook on anthropology. But here I am, drunk, abandoned by my friends, and on my way upstairs in a house I have never been to before, with a guy I just met. I would literally choose to be anywhere else.
I still can't move, but there's no way that two shots could transport me to this state of black-out-drunkenness... wait, was I roofied?! Oh my fucking God, I was roofied. Shit, shit, shit, shit! Before long, we are heading into a room at the end of the upstairs hallway. It smells strangely of lavender, and it has to be the neatest fraternity bedroom I have ever seen. The carpet is clean, stainless. Pictures and accessories were lined up side by side on the spotless desk vanity. The bed looks as if a feather would bounce off of it, and as Chad plopped me down onto it, the bounciness was confirmed. Without wasting any time, he ripped down my white dress. I spent all day at the mall looking for the perfect one. It's designer, so I usually wouldn't have given it a second glance, but I thought a special night deserves a special dress. I thought I should treat myself after being buried in a textbook for the last week. My treat now has a giant rip down the side, just like my dignity.
Why did I have to talk to him? Why did I accept a drink... Had I learned nothing from 13 Reasons Why? This is my fault. I whimper as my underwear is torn off.
"This is gonna be fun", he sneers, emphasizing each word and deepening his voice with each one. I close my eyes, and expect the worst to come, when I suddenly hear bones cracking.
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ALIS P.O.VI looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was 3:30. I never did ask Matthew what time my shift is finished. The only thing he did tell me was that I would start work at 7:30. Ugh! I wonder if I'll have enough time to get ready for the party Im going to with Mark tonight. I mean...I still have to meet up with Dillion at his house to help him and his sister Dina move their stuff to my apartment.
Daisy found nobody in the room and the door was also closed. She was feeling dizzy and weak but still while staggering she managed to stand up from the bed. Taking slow careful steps, she started walking towards the door, supporting the bed. She was feeling that suddenly her body started feeling heavy. Even walking was difficult for her. The gown, she was wearing was not of her size. It was a little loose but she felt comfortable in it.S
"Sixty-third. Sixty-third." Andrea Myles squinted through oversized sunglasses as she wedged the Crown Vic through New York traffic. "We're here. And I didn't say Anna was weird. I said she was unconventional."Crook Kingsman struggled to keep the growl out of his voice. "Some kind of psychic, isn't she? Anna Dumain. Sounds like a television tarot reader.""She's not a tarot reader." Andy braked and slipped into a rare parking space alongside Central park. "She's a scientist who studies... unusual things. She and her two cousins. They're like private investigators."Crooks gut tightened at Andy's I'm-holding-a-few-things-back tone. "And?" "And she's my friend, so you better be nice to her." "And?" He drummed his fingers on two thin, unmarked folders stacked between them on the Crown Vics seat.
Sebastián regresó a la habitación para acompañar a su hijo, empezó a hablarle mientras el niño permanecía inconsciente, diciéndole —Te amo hijo. Perdóname por haberte castigado sin razón. Perdóname por no saber acercarme a tí y por no poder decirteque estoy muy orgulloso de ti, como no estarlo, con un hijo que toca el violín desde los tres años, conoce y habla más de cuatro idiomas con menos de seis años, es campeón infantil de competencias automovilísticas, maneja el computador y sus programas mejor que yo —manifestó con una sonrisa—me muestra mis errores esperando que los corrija, me deja sin palabras con su fluidez. Prometo no volver a juzgarte sin oírte. Soy imperfecto Taddeo, me equivoco y lamentablemente no hay un manual que me indique como ser un buen padre, se