CRAZED MAnor

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER 4
                          
"I hope I find a reason to hate love, 
                          
so that I can say nothing owns me. 
                          
Nothing can control me,
                          
the way I think, or think of myself,
                          
because the best things in life destroy you more than the worst things ever could."




                          
Moving day came as the biggest surprise to me. I found out the day after, when I came home to nothing, thinking we had been robbed. 
                          
My mom texted me in the middle of my conversation with the police.


                          
MOM: NEW HOME. NEW BEGINNING. THEY WANT US TO MOVE IN, DISCUSSING LIVING ARRANGEMENTS NOW.
                          

                          
Sent with a smiley face emoji, my heart fluttered with thoughts of Tyson and what could come to be between us, in a confined space for the next year or so, until he went off to college while I finished off my years in high school, alone, with both of our parents. 
                          
The police officers looked at one another, in confusion, before asking me if everything was alright. 
                          
I replied, yes, with a bright wide smile. 
                          
They couldn't understand my sudden joy. I saw it on their faces when they looked at each other, once again, confused. 
                          
While my mind continued to wander, I daydreamed about the things that could come to be, asking myself if he truly was the one for me and if I had wished hard enough.
                          
I stayed wide awake nearly all night, waiting for a call and/or text from my mom, to reassure me that she hadn't forgotten about me; but she never contacted me, leaving me to wonder what could be more important than me. 
                          
They left the house in shambles. The only remaining thing in my bedroom was my mattress. I stayed up all night, sitting on it because the springs in the bed were too hard to sleep on. 
                          
No clothes,hardly any food, the whole house was deserted. I was lucky enough to find a few boxes of oatmeal. The only problem was, they were all the way on top of the highest shelf in the kitchen. 
                          
My hunger teased me as I struggled to reach for them on my tippy toes. Suddenly, I felt cold hands on my sides. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.   
                          
"Morning, honey," he said, scanning me up and down.   
                          
"Morning. Why are you here?" I asked. 
                          
He said my question was irrelevant, before grabbing the oatmeal from behind me. He placed it on the countertop next to me. 
                          
 He placed his hands on both sides of the counter that he backed me up against. 
                          
"I know you like me," he said, moving closer. "Just admit it." 
                          
While he ran his fingers through my now short black hair, his words tightened around my heart as they repeated in my head.
                          
"I'm kind of feeling you, too," he said, staring right into my eyes. 
                          
I could only hope he really meant what he said to me. He never seemed nor came off as the kind of guy who expressed exactly how he felt. I always saw him as the type of guy who said sweet things to girls like me just to get some action. 
                          
I just wanted out of the whole situation. I felt that he only wanted my response so that he could use it against me to his own amusement, in the future. 
                          
So, I moved his hands from my face. Pushing passed him with all the strength in me, I made my way up the stairs, then down the dramatically long narrow hallway to my room. Each step seemed to make the hallway stretch, making it harder for me to get away from him. 
                          
Tyson ran up behind me, unexpectedly, before I had the chance to open my room door. Sweeping me off my feet, he carried me to the bathroom down the hallway and closed the door behind him.
                          
Beyond confused and somewhat white-girl-in-a-horror-movie scared, I backed up into the corner by the shower. There was no way out at this point. 
                          
He made sure of that, by blocking the door with his entire body. 
                          
His right hand reached for the light switch. He gave me this look that I just cannot explain. 
                          
I said his name in a questionable tone, and he mimicked me, repeating what I said in a lighter voice than his own, before he decided to turn the lights off.
                          
It was completely pitch-black, except for the light peering in from the window on the other side of the shower. 
                          
His hand crept through the darkness as he reached out to me; I slapped it away. He disappeared into the dark, for a moment. Then, after a few short seconds, he pulled me into him, unexpectedly. 
                          
I strained my eyes, trying to make out his face in the darkness. I wondered if he could feel my heart racing just by being as close as I was to him. A part of me wanted to reach for his chest, to know if his heart raced the same way as mine; but I was afraid of overstepping my boundaries. 
                          
"So, do you?" he asked again. 
                          
Not even giving me a chance to answer, he kissed me. 
                          
Fireworks went off in my heart; after all, this was kiss number three. The butterflies in my stomach swirled around and around like a cotton candy machine. 
                          
He stopped suddenly, leaving my heart racing. 
                          
The sound of heels coming up the stairs caused us to panic. We both moved around, trying to get out of the bathroom door at the same time. 
                          
I accidentally slipped on something on the floor. Afraid of falling, I grabbed onto his arm, thinking he would save me; but we both ended up falling into the tub. 
                          
During the scrambling to get out, my foot turned the water on. 
                          
Even though I was technically more wet than he was, I could tell he wasn't too happy about getting his clothes wet. 
                          
He moved me off him, without helping me up, after. 
                          
The clicking heels got louder and louder, coming down the hallway. 
                          
Tyson jumped back in the tub, closing the curtain behind him. We both stayed quiet, hoping whoever it was would just go away.