-chapter xxiv.

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PILLOWTALK- ZAYN

-Warning: Mature scene...-

Milaydie's POV

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Milaydie's POV.

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Can you die from too much stress?

I have officially resorted to Google for an answer to this question.

I let out a sigh of relief when I find the answer. For your information, stress can't kill you but overtime it can cause damage that leads to premature death.

I am overfloated with homework and on top of that, I have only one week left before the Holiday dance recital, which only adds to my mental unstability.

The past few weeks since Thanksgiving break have passed pretty fast. I have yet to digest everything that I learned in this short weekend, but hey, how the fuck am I supposed to get over the fact that my father ran an illegal drug business?

I still wonder how he managed to hide all of this so well. I guess having a family that lives in Quebec, made it easier to run a racing rink and move a bunch of drugs in Ontario a little easier.

I also guess that it's why, I might've recognized this man at the rink when Reed and I went. Maybe he also worked with dad for the real estate business. I know mom hasn't told me all the details, but one thing she told me is that there were younger kids, my age, that were involved and it makes me sick.

I promised myself that when Reed takes me back to the rink, I will try to find some answers for me about all of this.

Why? How? When?

I don't really give a crap about my fathers death, especially if it was for something along the line of this. He wasn't a good person, that I am sure. I was just hurt because in the end, he is still my father.

Yeah, what my mom told me still is running through my thoughts tweenty-four-seven, and I want more than anything to just find out it was a stupid joke.

I know it isn't.

I continue to write this stupid english essay about respect, until my phone rings. I reach for it from my bedside table and turn it over to see who is calling me.

Maxwell<3, is the name I can read on my screen.

I almost jump over to answer his call. Reed and I are great, but if all this work wouldn't take my precious time away, I could be cuddling with my boyfriend right now.

I press the answer button and click on speaker, ''Hello stranger,'' I greet him, chewing on the little pink eraser on my pencil.

''Hi gorgeous, whatcha' doing?'' He asks, clearly bored out of his mind, ''I feel like I barely saw you this week.''

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