HERE YOU ARE, CHAPTER SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!
80 votes for chapter 8, I think you get the idea, but i'm going to keep reminding YOU!!!
ENJOY!
AJ's Mind
“Spongebob!”
“Ninja Turtles!”
“Spongebob!”
“Ninja Turtles!”
My younger brother and younger sister argued over the remote beside me in the living room. I was sitting on the end of the couch staring out the living room window to the street. It was raining, pouring down, which was unusual because it's Spring and it was forecast a bright and sunny day. Which it had been all day, but all of a sudden it started to rain for no reason. There hadn't even been a cloud in the sky when I walked home alone today.
It was like something bad happened in the world somewhere, and the sky literally opened up in devastation. I wonder what it could be?
I wanted to text Samson, my phone was just sitting there in my hand, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. How could he hit a girl? I know she said some bad things to him, he told me Sunday. But whatever she might have said couldn't possibly warrant violence, surely? And now I had two black eyes. Even in his 'bad boy' phase, he'd never once even looked at me wrongly. Now he's hit me twice in a week. And it hurts too!
I took a deep breath and sighed. What am I going to do with him?
“Sponge-freaking-bob!” my little sister squealed, throwing the remote across the room so her older brother couldn't get it. It flew right past my head and smashed into the china vase on the dresser, which toppled off and shattered on the tiles.
“Now you've done it,” Dylan growled at his younger sister. Charlie curled into a ball and started crying.
“I- didn't- mean- too-” she hiccuped through sobs. I groaned, getting up and picking up my baby sister.
“Shh, it's okay,” I told her, scowling at my brother. He placed his hands on his hips, outraged I’d take Charlie's side instead of his. Mum ran in, hearing the sound of the crashing vase.
“What's going on?” she asked, concerned and unsure. She still had dirty laundry hanging from her shoulders in the middle of doing a load.
“Your children were fighting over the remote again and Charlie threw it across the room, it hit the vase,” I explained, going to mum and handing her her crying youngest child. Mum took Charlie, deciding whether to start screaming or not. Charlie wrapper her tiny arms around her mother and cried harder into her neck.
“Dylan, to your room, now!” mum barked, patting her daughter's back gently.
“But MUM!” Dylan protested, stomping his foot.
“No, no buts! I've told you a thousand times not to pick on your sister!” mum cried, waving a pair of knickers at her youngest son.
“That's so unfair!” Dylan screamed, running off to his room. Mum turned to me.
“You should have stopped them,” she scowled. I put my hands up in defence.
“Hey, they aren't my kids,” I told her. Mum raised her eyebrows, then decided against it and pointed to the broken vase mess.
“Clean that up for me, I have enough on my plate to deal with,” mum sighed, walking out of the room with the still sobbing Charlie.
“The vase isn't on your plate, it's on the floor,” I mumbled as I pocketed my phone and went into the kitchen to grab the broom and dust pan.
I swept up the broken vase and then vacuumed the area to make sure there weren't any little unnoticed pieces waiting to pierce little feet, before sitting back on the couch with the unblemished remote. I flicked through the channels idly, not really paying attention to what was on.
Buzz, buzz!
My phone began to vibrate in my pocket for a moment before breaking out into a song. It was Samson and I singing.
“You got a phone call, oh yeah, yeah, you got a freaking phone call. So answer the phone, answer the phone. You got a phone call!! Hahaha,” we sung badly, trying to sound gangster. I pouted at the memory of me and my best friend mucking around.
“Did you press stop?” Samson then asked inside my phone.
“Um... no?” replied my voice. Samson laughed and then it repeated. I pulled my phone out and answered it.
“Hello?” I asked the unknown number.
“AJ? It's Mrs McCoy,” came a sobbing female reply. My heart froze in my chest. Why was Mrs McCoy calling me? And why was she crying?
“Um, hi. What's up?” I asked warily. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. Mrs McCoy sniffed down the phone, and there was some shuffling.
“Oh AJ,” she burst into tears, “It's Sam-son.” I choked on my own breath, rocking forward and grabbing at my chest. No, no, don't say it. Please don't do this. I can't breathe.
“What happened? Where are you?” I asked urgently. My whole body was pulsing with adrenaline and I was shaking from head to toe in panic.
“The- hospital,” Mrs McCoy hiccuped, rubbing her nose. “He's... oh god AJ, it's bad.”
The world froze and flipped, tipping me off the edge of the Earth. The phone dropped from my hand and clattered onto the floor, breaking into three pieces. The back, the battery, and the body. I couldn't move, my mind told me to run but my body wouldn't.
“AJ, can you grab Charlie's teddy from her room for me, please?” mum asked, coming into the room. I didn't respond, I can't breathe. It hurts, the thirst for air crawled up my lungs, pulling at my brain, crushing my chest.
“AJ? Did you hear me?” mum continued, leaning over the back of the couch to look at me. I was still staring off into space. Mum waved her hand in front of my face, then touched my shoulder, making me flinch.
“Is everything okay?” she asked gently, glancing down at my phone. I shook my head, mouth still open. I closed it and gulped.
“It's... Samson. He's...” I tried, but I couldn't say it. Saying it out loud made it real.
“Joseph?” Mum screamed at the staircase.
“Yeah?” came a faint reply.
“Look after the kids!” she told him, then pulled me off the couch and towards the front door. I was dragged along like dead weight in a daze.
“The hospital,” I told her as she opened the door. She paused, then nodded and shoved me out, grabbing her keys from the dish by the door.
Samson's Mind
“Mmmm,” I groaned. Oh man, it felt like there was an elephant sitting on top of me. What's going on? It was hard to breathe. Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt so much?
“Samson? Honey, it mummy,” my mother's voice called to me. I felt her touch on my arm and my eyes flickered open; they scanned the room rapidly, then settled on her face. I frowned. What's wrong? She looks so... so... distraught. She doesn't look like the happy loving mother I know.
