6.
The rest of my day was spent worrying, like a victim on deathrow. You knew the pain would come and it was only a matter of counting down the minutes.
The bell did that for me.
The yelling sound of kids only added to the immence pain that a sane doctor would classify as a headache. But there was an angry couple arguing inside my head. I swear, my thoughts should get divorced!
It's your story.
How could a story kill someone?
Maybe she isn't dead...
"Honey, I'm so sorry."
Sobs.
More sobs. Sobs. Sobs. Sobs.
Now it may seem like I am a bitch to my friends, and that I don't really like them, but the truth is I really do. They are the only ones that truely get me, and the only ones that are always there. Well, that's what I thought.
