After It Happened

Chapter 2: 1

19th January, 2018

Miss Peters really over-reacted after seeing my essay. The essay wasn't even a big deal. I just decided

to put more effort since Grammy and Aunt Amara had given me that talk about potential. I wanted to try Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

and be good for people who had really tried so hard to take care of me.

Anyways, back to Miss Peters. She kept on commending my work in class that I just had to bow my

head to avoid the pointed stares of my classmates. After the class, she called me to her desk and I

considered ignoring her, but I managed to drag myself to her table. If I was going to be a good girl, this

was the least I could do.

I was really considering walking out the classroom door when she started getting all teary-eyed. Crying,

really? I won't lie that her next words got to me. Me? A writer? The girl that got C's and D's and maybe

one or two B's in a term was a good writer? I was laughing so hard that I didn't see her drawing a

journal from her big bag.

You see, that journal looked interesting and more my style. It was a sleek midnight purple book with a

silver skull in front. I loved it, too bad I wouldn't use it. I didn't want to dedicate my time to another tiring

activity. I was still thinking of who deserved the book when my teacher spoke up again telling me I

could put down my thoughts here. I thanked her and gave her my signature smile, or maybe it looked

more like a smirk, before I left the class.

Now, I'm awake two days later in my room in the middle of the night writing how I got this journal in the

journal. I couldn't get any weirder. All thanks to one of those stupid nightmares.

Well this is my first entry in this pretty journal. I don't know if I will write here again. I doubt it, though. I

still don't know if I hate Miss Peters for this or not.

23rd January, 2018

I never thought I would write here again. Maybe this will be a constant or just a one-time thing.

Whatever happens I'll flow with it. That's all I seem to do - flow with everything life throws at me.

I had another nightmare. Funny enough, like all my other nightmares, I don't remember this one. I just

know it was a horrible dream because of the feeling of dread I get and how I'm drenched in sweat. It's

the usual one. There's smoke everywhere and everything is blurry. People are screaming and I feel

almost dead.

This is why I'm sitting at my desk writing in this journal. I am too scared to sleep. I just don't know if I'm

scared of the nightmare or if I'm scared to remember.

I don't want to get rid of this journal so easily. I also feel the book doesn't deserve to be just referred to

as my journal because it's now more than that. It's a friend that knows all my thoughts. A sibling I never

had. Maybe I'll just call you, Danielle. The name sounds so familiar and perfect. It's always floating

around in my head never finding an anchor.

Just another memory puzzle. A puzzle I do not want to connect.