Hey guys! Trinity Jaquelyn Fife here with her first PTX/Scomiche fanfic! Thanks for reading! I will probably update every 2 weeks or so, or if I have a lot of reviews, I will update sooner. Read and share with friends! And don't forget to subscribe to Pentatonix and Superfruit! (Oh, and follow this story too.) Thanks guys!
I do not own anything that you would recognize, and any similarities to any characters is completely coincidental.)
Oh. Hello. I didn't expect you to be reading this. I can't believe that you would read this! I'm sorry. I am rambling. I better tell you about me before you regret reading this. I am Harmony Hancock, a 14 year old girl who is trying to sort her life out after it took an unexpected turn. Right now, I am laying wide awake, trying to sleep. I have had insomnia after I moved into my adoptive parents' home. Now, you're wondering, "Why did she say 'adoptive parents'? What is the 'unexpected turn'?" I will get to those questions later. Everything will be answered in time. It is not my adoptive parents fault that I have insomnia. In fact, they turned my life around for the better after the accident. I was cutting when they adopted me, and they saved me from suicide. Now you're thinking, "How could she form a bond with her parents so quickly?" They're not just any parents. They are Mitch Grassi and Scott Hoying. You may have heard of them, if not from the group they are in, Pentatonix, but from their video channel, Superfruit. They have been amazing, but two people can't magically fix everything.
You see, I have insomnia because a couple of months ago, my parents were killed in a semi-to-van accident. Their killer, 39 year old Avrahm Harrison. He is a very social person-maybe a little too social. He was out with friends and had one too many beers before continuing his semi route when he killed my parents. I was in the car with them when we were hit. I only got a mild concussion from it. I always wonder to myself what would have happened if I wouldn't have chosen to sleep. If I would have chosen to fight the warm pull of unctuousness. I stay up every night imagining what had happened. Could I have prevented their death? What if I had called 911? What if? What if? What… if? The question that I have tangoed with every night since their deaths. Two words. Six letters. Eight characters. Bounce around in my mind for hours on end, torturing me with their razor sharp blade of uncertainty. Opening every wound that had healed the day before. Slicing me up so badly that my body feels like I am cutting it, but I am not voluntarily doing so. I just want this pain to end. No matter how luxurious their apartments can be, with them making the Forbes 30 Under 30, I just want my parents, a teacher and a farmer, back.