Cherry contact

Chapter 8

"Your head hit the ground pretty hard"

Brennon was bandaging my head where it hurt most. I was moaning and groaning with every dab of ointment. "Stop", he said. I didn't understand. Stop hoping for better?. Stop moaning?. Stop trying to understand people who don't understand you?. Stop-

"Read this". Brennon left a book on my bed, took one more glance at my room and left. I felt something hardening in my chest, it was growing ang it was getting really hot. It got cold fast and my hands started shaking. I dared myself to look at them. Blood. Fresh as day. I shake my head furiously.

I stared at the book Brennon left on my bed. What was his point?. I held my head and slowly buried my head in my pillow. I hope Hailey's still not here. I'll kill her if I sight her here. She's already dead but I want to kill her mentally. She kept important details away from me. Slowly ,I started to realize something.

My dream wasn't a dream.

It was a fragment of my lost memory.

Hailey had just showed me her memories and mine too. I stare at the ceiling and think deep and hard before giving up due to the headache it caused me. I wish my life didn't have so much complicated things. I search for my watch and gasp when I see the time.

11:30pm.

I must have been blacked out for a long time. My stomach grumbled. My last meal was breakfast and Mom didn't bring me any lunch. Where was she, anyway?. I leave my room wearing my blue flip-flops. The trip down the stairs was long and painful. At the kitchen, I find a note from my brother written in his neat, casual handwriting.

"Mom went out. There's leftover pizza in the oven and a bottle of coke in the fridge. Be safe"

Be safe. He normally ends his notes and letters like that. It wasn't too heartfelt but you would know that he cares. As the microwave and whined and squealed, I heard a noise outside. It sounded like tree branches and a shovel. Someone's digging. The microwave stops whining for once and I eye the torch on top of the fridge.

I feel stupid for thinking about going outside.

It sounds risky and I love and hate my life too much to want to be buried alive by whatever psycho is in our backyard. Curiosity whispers to my soul and pokes me in sensitive parts. It rubs the back of my ears and tickles my back. It's so tempting. I could save a life probably. I dare to peek out the window.

A girl, or boy perhaps is digging a hole. I knew it.

The stranger is wearing a black hoodie and acts like they're in a hurry. The stranger is breathing heavily with the strong rise and fall of the chest. I feel scared thinking about what would happen if the stranger caught me.

My worst fears come alive at that moment.

The stranger can see me and is running to the door.