|Book One of Disaster Series|
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❝Please stop doing this,❞ Ridge whispers, resting his forehead on my shoulder blade, his breath hitting my skin, chills coursing through my veins, seeping deep into my bones. The look in his eyes, the hunger and the...
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I hate Mondays.
I mean, why would I wanna get up in the morning, just to go to school, especially on a Monday morning? Yeah wait, for education. As my dad likes to put it.
I would rather sleep throughout the day and go on a drive late at night, alone - as the harsh and cool wind blew against my hair. And now I'm day dreaming.
The shrill and irritating sounds coming from my alarm woke me up early in the morning. Ever since, I've been a ball of sunshine. Please note the heavy sarcasm.
"Lydia, wake up now. You only have 40 minutes before school starts," My dad's head pops through the door. Just like always. And then he leaves.
"Thanks for the reminder, dad," I reply, even though there's no one in the room except for me.
I slip out of my bed, my hair sticking up in all the direction, resembling a bird's nest. They are stubbornly tangled to each other. I rake a brush through my hair, trying my best to not hurt my scalp during the process. Since I forgot to dry my hair after my shower last night, they have decided to gang up against me. Once I know it's somewhat presentable, I head towards the bathroom and take a shower as fast as possible.
I slip into casual yet something different clothing today, courtesy of my first day which consists of a plain white top underneath a denim dungaree dress. Feeling satisfied, I slip into some casual white vans and pick my backpack and leave my room.
As I head downstairs, I hear a voice humming. A female voice, to be exact. Confused, I run downstairs to solve the mystery.
As soon as I enter the kitchen, I come across a lady, busy with something. Her back is to me so I cannot see what she looks like but she looks old, considering her slightly grey hair. Maybe in her 50's or something. Right, she must be Martha.
"Excuse me?" I ask in order to gain her attention.
She gasps which causes the utensil in her hand to fall on the island. When she recovers, she turns around, placing her hand on her heart," Jeez kid, you tryna dig up my early grave or something?"
I chuckle at that, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"It's alright. Just next time, give me a warning before you try to kill me, okay?" She narrows her eyes at me in a teasing manner. "By the way, I'm Martha. I'll be cooking for you poor fellas and cleaning the house too."
