June 5th, 2014

His dark blue eyes were to die for. I swear, if this boy spoke another word, I was going to vomit with joy. Not literally, just like, internally vomit.

Was this what a crush felt like? Idiotic, and (not not mention) INSANE crushes? The works of Shakespeare rolled off of his tongue perfectly, making me go berserk. The way he would take his long fingers to scratch his dark auburn hair, before setting his large hand down on the wooden desk again.

Feeling a tight pinch on my arm, I quickly grabbed the tan wrist of the "attacker", only to see that it was my best friend who was sitting next to me in class. Rolling my eyes, I immediately let go of her hand, setting my own in my lap.

"Ooh, Ella Simmons has a crush on Tom Hoffhacker," Caitlin taunted, nudging me with her elbow.

"Shut up," I hissed, gritting my teeth and balling my fists. Caitlin only snickered, shaking her head.

"Ella. Guess what. It's the last day of school. If you don't get his number, you'll regret it!" Caitlin whispered, while I tried to pay attention to what the teacher was describing. Honors English, where you read Shakespeare for fun on the last day of school.

"It's not like Tom is actually interested in me anyways," I muttered just loud enough for my friend to hear.

"That's not what I've heard," she blurted quietly, chuckling casually afterwards. With that, my head violently turned towards her, wondering what the hell she meant.

"What?"

"Nothing important. Now, I heard that Tiffany from choir was talking shit about you yesterday," Caitlin changed the subject on purpose, smirking and leaning on the palm of her hand. I rolled my eyes in return, only caring about the back of Tom's head. "She said that you had 'daddy issues' because your cousin brought you to the Father Daughter Dance, instead of your actual dad."

"Caitlin, not now," I muttered, tightening my balled fists, seeing my knuckles turn white. Why did everything these days have to be a pain in my ass?

"Fine, just wanted you to know that." Caitlin shrugged, crossing her legs as she did so. How could she not get the fact that I honestly did not give a shit about girl drama? It just wasn't my thing, apparently it was a girl requirement to know the daily gossip.


The rest of the hour was awkward and quiet between the both of us, with Mrs. Ludwig making us write our own sonnets, and turn them in. At least it was something to help my brain to focus on.

Towards the end of the last few minutes of school, Caitlin ended up "accidentally" bumping me into Tom. Oh, and lucky me, he was just happening to be giving his number out to his buddies.

I scowled at my friend, as Tom quickly turned around, and smiled at me, apologizing immediately.

"No, no, it's alright-"

"Ella. I was in the way. Don't worry about it," Tom assured me, scratching the back of that beautiful neck. Was this obsession? I had no idea in the world anymore.

But, he knew my name? My name?! This was like a dream come true. The freaking hottest guy on the planet, knew, my, name.

"Well, if you say so," I shrugged, laughing nervously, and casually looking back up at him. I probably looked like a complete freak next to him. With messy short hair, large glasses, an oversized Def Leppard shirt that I acquired from my mother. Not to mention a pair of old Nike shorts that I wearing, even though I wore them to sleep in last night. Idiot! You don't know how to look presentable for shit!

Tom smiled, and took out a Sharpie, and pressed his pink lips together, dimples showing up on his cheeks.

"Hey, you're actually pretty funny. I'd like to get your number, you know. So I can make up puns on a daily basis?" he asked, laughing his way through the question. God, why did he have to be so adorable?

Feeling the blood rise to my cheeks, I nodded. Embarrassment was plastered on my face. What was I supposed to do? No guy has ever asked me for his number before.

I plucked the pen out of his large hands, and gently grabbed his hand, feeling jolts of electricity going through my body. Tingles, small, alarming tingles. Ignoring the feeling, I wrote the ten digit number on his warm, comforting skin. God dammit. He did the same thing with me afterwards, laughing as he did.

God, I hated myself so much.


I pushed myself into the driveway, the penny board's wheel going over the curb, and rolling onto the different pavement. My mother didn't call me during any of my finals today, which was swell, wince I could actually take a test without any distractions. I hopped off of the moving board, and quickly grabbed it, running towards the front door.

Unlocking the door with my house key, I pranced inside of the small house, smiling as if there was no tomorrow. I felt this glow in the bottom of my stomach, making the whole moment feel optimistic and cheery.

"I have Tom Hoffhacker's number!" I exclaimed like some kind of lame kindergartner. Kicking off my shoes, my legs ran me up the white carpeted stairs to greet my mother. I saw her car in the open garage, I wonder what she was doing, being home so early and all. She usually didn't get off of work until like seven at night.

But the upstairs didn't smell right. Not the usual dusty scent, it had some kind of bad, rotting egg stench. It confused me a little. Did we have a gas leak or something? Was that why she was home? It must have been. But the furnace was downstairs, not up here. Raising my eyebrows, I ran up the second set of steps, before I halted at my mother's bedroom door. Just knock. A few times. If she gets mad, walk away quickly. Nodding to myself, I tapped on the door a few times, not hearing a voice inside at first. Did she not hear me?

Sighing, I pushed the door open, only seeing her empty bedroom. But her dresser was flipped over, with scattered items around the floor. I held my breath, and stepped inside, wondering what hell happened.

"Mom?"

Not getting an answer, I stepped into her room, spotting a hand crafted box on her queen sized bed. Noticing a sheet of paper on it, I walked up to the item slowly, and read the paper after grabbing it tightly in my hands. The only thing I saw was my name that was scribbled in pen on the sheet. Setting the piece of paper down, I ignored the box, and turned to her bathroom, seeing that the light was on. Was she in there? She must have. She wouldn't just leave the light on, she was a total electricity bill fanatic.

The stench stung my nose a little, beginning to give me a headache. I groaned, pinching my forehead, attempting to get the stupid smell out of my nose. Breathing though my mouth, I quickly walked to the master bedroom's bathroom, and twisted the doorknob. It didn't budge.

"Damn locks," I muttered, pounding on the wooden door. "Mom! You in there?!"

Not hearing a response, I pounded on the door a few more times. Cursing under my breath, I took a few steps backwards, clearing my throat. Nico taught me how to do this, when I was eight. I had accomplished it easily before, but that was like six or seven years ago. Pressing my lips together, I exhaled deeply, blinking a few times to regain my memory.

Nodding to myself, I kicked the door my right foot, aiming for the spot right underneath the doorknob. Surprisingly enough, the force was just enough to break the door down, causing it to swing open, and crash against the bathroom counter.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck, as I spotted my mother on the tiled floor, lying in a large pool of red liquid. Her throat was torn open, the flesh ripped apart, the blood dribbling out slowly. I could feel myself scream, but my ears filled up with only white noise. Running over to her body, I noticed her hazel eyes were glossed over, still open, looking up at the ceiling. Not worrying about the stench anymore, I allowed the smell to enter my nose, giving me a large headache. I grabbed her from underneath, seeing the blood stain my arms and clothes, as her head bobbed up and down during the holding process.

"No, no, no, please," I stuttered out, the tears crawling down my cheeks, landing on my shirt. Somehow, I took my phone out, and successfully dialed 911, continuing to cob over my mother's limp corpse.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My mom, she's, she's dead. Someone killed her!" I coughed, throwing my device towards the closet inside of the bathroom, hearing it land softly on the carpet. "There's so much blood-"

"Miss, where are you?" the woman asked. I gave the lady my address, I could feel my whole body shiver in terror, my gut twisting itself into about three different types of knots you would learn at a Boy Scout Camp. The happiness drained from my emotions, replacing itself with grief, burrowing a deep dark hole in my heart.