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CHAPTER 17
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2024-10-29 19:42:56"Leslie, sit up straight, your posture is making my head hurt."
My mother stares at me with the utmost rigor in her eyes. When I do lengthen my back and sit up straight, that hardness never leaves her black irises as she continues to stare at me as if I'm subhuman. It isn't my fault, I try to tell her—my developing breasts not only give me back pain, but make me reluctant to stand up straight in fear of being mistaken of "showing them off."
"We need to take you to a chiropractor. That did little to assist you," she tells me, taking a sip of her wine.
My little sister, Samantha, doesn't say anything at my mother's words at the restaurant table. How could she, really—she's
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"Ommmm....ommmm...."My hands at heart center, I take deep breaths and try to find my inner Yoga warrior. Emphasis on the word "try", since my stress level is so up the roof I can feel the gray hairs pushing out of my scalp.The early morning summer breeze rushes through the front porch of the guest house as I channel all of my negative energy into the wood beneath me. But it isn't working. Because no matter how hard I try to get rid of the dark, clouded aurora that last night in North Carolina left behind, it still lingers in my mind about the chaos and disaster we left behind at Oliver Epps's birthday party."Sun salutation," I instruct to myself. I stretch my arms above my head and behind my shoulders into "waterfall" pose before bringing them in front of me, touching my toes, then
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The next morning, I turn off my alarm clock and its loud, annoying ringing and get out of bed. Stretching my aching muscles, I force myself to set my focus on today's party at Abraham Collingwood's house. Which reminds me that I need to wear something red.I open the closet and look through my clothes until I pick out everything that is a red hue; a silk maroon button-up blouse, a cardinal long sleeve top and finally a burgundy dress lay across my bed. After careful consideration, I decide to wear the silk blouse.After showering and spending a good hour combing my hair under the water, I slick it back into a bun and begin to get dressed. Buttoning up my blouse, I look at myself in the mirror and wear a sour look at the reason for wearing such attire. Although I told Sebastian to remove any sort of Liberal thinking from his brain
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** "Why does he always have to make everything so hard!?" I mumble to myself, pushing branches away from my face as I walk further into the woods. Upon entering the forest, it's like an entirely different atmosphere; the giant oak trees and enveloping leaves they hold block most of the sunlight, minus a few soft spots that illuminate the area dimly. I'll be honest, I'm a little...scared. If there was a word to describe "scared" with less prominence, then that would be my current emotion. "Sebastian, where are you?" I call out with no answer. The only response I get is from a few birds above and another noise that I cannot label. Oh God. After treading down a descending surface, I am fin
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Three hours. Three hours of walking, falling, tripping, whining, mentally dying and coming back to life again in the woods. "Sebastian, I don't think I can go much longer," I pant, holding onto a tree for support. My legs are sore from the calf all the way up to the thigh, and every step I take creates the most intense feeling of ache I have ever felt. "We're almost there," he says. He does a better job at hiding his tiredness and pain than I do, but it's still evident all over his body, especially in his worn-out eyes. I let go of the tree and drag myself to keep up, "Well how do you know that? How do you know how far we have to go? We could...we could be wandering here all night, fordays, even. What if we don't make it? What if we don't make it to the ro—"
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**I wake up the next morning and immediately get to work.I've been receiving calls about Sebastian's party since I opened my eyes—E! News, People, TMZ, POPSUGAR, you name it. Apparently, they all want to know the reason for Sebastian's erratic behavior at his house party and why he was so ballistic in the first place. Darcy and I have been commenting the same thing: "We don't have a comment on that at this time." The ironic this is, I'm the reason he was acting that way in the first place. Though, I'm the last person they'd expect to push Sebastian to that point.I sit at my dining room table, sipping coffee even though I'm not in the mood to consume much of anything, and sift through the rest of my emails on my laptop. I'm trying my best to keep 'him' out of my mind, bec
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