Until You.

P I L L S

A L I Y A H

It was now Friday evening, and I was set to start school on Monday. The days were passing by quickly, too quickly for me to note.

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement. Unlike Loren, who was excited, I was petrified. 

Mia kept reassuring me that everything would be fine and she'd be there all the way, but I still felt sick to my stomach. The feeling, almost like a knot, only tightening at the reoccurring thoughts of everything that could go wrong.

Taking a pill out of the bottle, I swallowed it down with a sip of water. Turning around, my eyes gaze at the decor.

The majority of the house was basically finished; there were just a few touches needed. Mom did a great job decorating although she had insisted that she was to be the one who decored everything. Safe to say, she did a fantastic job, and we all trusted her skills.

The grandfather clock chimed ten. Mom, Dad, Emily, and Loren were at Aunt Freya's house for dinner. Me being the girl I am, I made up some excuse so that I could stay home. Not that I despised Aunt Freya, but her overbearing questions and opinion were too overwhelming for me to handle right now.

I closed the lid of the pill bottle and placed it back in one of the kitchen cabinets. My meds were prescribed for my panic attacks; I only used them rarely because Mom would only let me take them if I really needed them, the side effects apparently being too strong, but I really did need them now. 

Making my way back to my room, I let out a slight scream as I see Mia sitting casually on my bed, her feet up.

"What the hell, Mia!" I screeched, holding a hand to my chest. She laughed and patted the space on my bed beside her, motioning me to sit next to her.

"Guess what?" Mia's energetic voice echoed through the room.

"What," I answered, walking to my bed and sitting on the edge.

"You got the job." She said excitedly. Instead of responding, I instantly stand, my eyebrows creasing.

"The bakery, Aurelia, tried one of the cupcakes you made me yesterday, and she said she'd let you work at her place." Mia further implied.

"You mean work, as in bake?" I asked.

"Yupp." She responded, popping the 'p.'

"Mia, how did you get her to agree?" I ask, I was beyond ecstatic but I didn't want to get ahead of myself. This job could be good for me, but it could go both ways. 

"She's my grandmother, remember?" She says, and I let out a breath.

"Thanks, Mia, really, thank you," I tell her, sitting once again.

"No problem, babe," She stated, crossing her ankles.

"Are you nervous?" I asked her, the mood in the room becoming more serious.

"About?"

"School," I state simply.

"No, I'm excited that you're coming. I can't wait to introduce you to Alex, Zayden, Khalil- hey," She stopped rambling once she sees my not-so-excited expression.

She leaned forward and took one of my hands in hers, "It'll be fine, I promise. I got you."

Heard that before.

Shaking the foolish thought from my mind, I nodded with a smile.

"Not that I'm kicking you out Mia, but you better go before everyone comes home," I tell her.

She gets up from the bed, her 5'7 figure almost shadowing over my 5'6" one. A common thing she always teased about: her being an inch taller.

"Okay, I'll text you in the morning then?" She suggested.

"Yeah," I murmured, hugging her tightly.

I watched as she opened my bedroom window and climbed down the iron railing.

I swear she made everything look so easy. 

I sit back on my bed, curling up into a fetus position. Not being bothered to get dressed in my pyjamas, I bring the covers closer to my body and close my eyes.

The thoughts and worries for the next week making me twist uncomfortably under the sheets.

Maybe those pills don't really work.

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to somehow stop the headache I could feel coming. I took a deep breath.

I knew that moving to Las Vegas may be a strange experience. When I used to think of Las Vegas, images of casinos and arcades flooded my mind. But it wasn't just that; there was so much more to it.

But Mia had really explained what Las Vegas actually was from her side, the residential side.

Being far, yet not too distant from the city centre, was what my family wanted. Honestly, just looking outside and admiring the neighbourhood, you would never guess that this is the city I was just talking about.

Turning onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling. The tall and wide bookshelves silhouette casting down on my bed, the faint lamb on my bedside table giving it a hint of a shadow.

I was happy with how I decorated my room and managed to do it before school started.

There were no framed photographs on the walls; they stayed plain and empty in their original colour; white. I had my furniture matching in all back, all of which was edged and modern. A stack of old library books I had forgotten to give back from Louisville, lay on my desk. A couple of which were lying around on my nightstand. My school bag, packed with everything I needed, lay on the floor beside the extensive window.

After a few restless tosses and attempts to sleep, I decided to give up. Pushing the covers off of me, I grabbed the book I had re-read many times, from my bedside table.

I always loved reading; it was my escape. But this book significantly helped me disconnect and made me feel like I was leaving this world, even if it were just for a little while. It was my favourite comfort book.

Loren always teased me for being into romance while Mom and Emily admired it. Emily tends to pest me into admitting that I'm a hopeless romantic like some characters, if not most, in those books that I read. Truth is, I've never said it out loud. Part of me was afraid of getting hurt, being let down.

In actuality, thinking about it, it did sound stupid or even strange; waiting for that one special someone who will just magically change everything? Believing that fate led you to that particular person, and it's all meant to be? Most people tend to laugh and mock this ideology. I guess I do too. True love, an emotion unique in its own essence, only ever lasted in books and novels. Perhaps that's what Fitzgerald, Jane Austen, Emily Bronte were all trying to do. Create an image, make something so strong and compelling, seem real. My Nona had said that my thoughts on love would change entirely whenever I meet the right person. But as Mom always amusingly reminds me, "Le tue nonne sognano sempre mia cara."

[Your grandmother's always dreaming, my dear.]