Her Last Words by Grace Yu (best books for 20 year olds .txt) š
- Author: Grace Yu
Book online Ā«Her Last Words by Grace Yu (best books for 20 year olds .txt) šĀ». Author Grace Yu
Her Last Words
Epilogue
āNo! No, Donāt leave meā Panicking words hurried out of the cold, shivering lips of a young man.
His clothes were wet from the rain that drenched his body.
He held me, tight, as if he didn't want to let go.
I couldnāt see anything, but I could feel the raindrops pattering against my bare skin.
I could feel the chill of my body and I could hear unforgettably sad words from a very familiar voice.
A shivering gust of wind passed by the surface of my skin, embracing itself against the warm body that closed between us.
Gradually, everything started to fade into darkness.
Slowly, the sounds, the feeling of warmth and eventually..........everything.
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Chapter One
It was the last year of high school, a week, until the mid-term exams.
I was having a hard time with basically everything.
My grades were going down; my mom was having trouble earning money without paying any debts.
But the thing that most troubled me was the rain. It was raining heavily outside every single day and it just wouldnāt stop.
I never liked the rain; it always made me feel somewhat upset. Not only that, but it seemed as though every time it had rained, I have the worst luck.
I canāt even explain how horrible it is. It just is.
I looked out the window, watching every drop of rain that hit the glass. I sighed in silence, trying hard not to show my sad emotions. I turned to the classroom clock.
āTickā¦.tickā¦tickā the clock handle was slow.
Watching the next click, I waited for the final bell to ring.
Finally the clock struck 3, and a large ringing vibrated in my ears.
I immediately stood up, walking out of the classroom.
Heading out to the corridors I made sure I got to my locker as fast as I could.
I crawled past gardens of students that pushed against me by every step as they also tried to get out of the building, so they could be free from this educational hell.
Reaching my personal locker, I turned my locker combination and opened the locker door.
There wasnāt much in my locker. A couple of school books, an childish looking umbrella, a fluffy, light blue pencil case that my mom bought for me at Christmas day, a long thin mirror on the locker door, and last, my most precious valuable, a small pendent, my deceased dadās memento.
My mom had given it to me at my 15th birthday. She said it was something that my dad wanted me to have before he had passed away.
Even though I couldnāt remember anything about my dad, I cherished this pendent more than anything.
Itās that special to me.
Taking a few of my school books, my umbrella and my dadās memento, I closed my locker door with a slight thud and took rapid steps out the building.
I carefully headed towards my house, while opening up my umbrella.
The road to my place wasnāt that far. Though it did feel like forever to get there.
I finally reached the old shriveled gates of my house. The raindrops tingled onto the gates and the rooftop, down to the cold, wet pathway that lingered to the main door of my house.
My house was old, really old.
The roof had some holes that were covered with plastic buckets to stop the rain from dropping into the house; The windowās were uneven and had broken holes that was covered with cardboard and sticky-tape; The front light was dim and it would turn off at times; The door seemed to be the only thing that didnāt have any problems with. The door ridges opened well, the door knob may have lost its color feeling but it was still usable.
I slipped past the jagged path and down to the main door of the house.
I dug into my pocket, trying to grab my house keys through the hand full of candies that I had bought earlier that day.
As my fingers searched for the keys, I stumbled to hold up my umbrella.
Finally finding them, I slipped the key into the lock under the doorknob, turning it sideward, unlocking the door.
I pushed the door open, unfolding the umbrella and placing it beside the door. I took off my jacket, hanging it on the hanger behind the main door.
Closing the door, I headed towards my room; I shook my head slightly to kick off the rain water that had gathered at the edges of the strands of my hair.
I dunk my bag beside my bed as I dropped onto my bed, lying down on the comfy mattress. I watched the lightly, painted colors of the ceiling as it reflected its light from the sun that beamed through the window, lighting the entire room with unbelievably polishing brilliance. Even though it was raining, the sun still shined bright past the clouds and to the room.
My room had a large window. It reached from the ceiling then down to the floor covered in carpet.
I had very little furniture. A small table that I used to study in; A single sized bed, with light blue covers that were on sale, the day my mom had bought them; A small laptop, that was also on sale that day and an old looking cupboard to put my clothes in.
That was it, nothing more. It wasnāt much, I know, but it was enough to amuse myself, and that was fine. I didnāt care about anything else really.
I closed my eyes. I had done all of my homework and assignments beforehand and it would be a long while ātill my mom would come back from work, so what else was there to do, besides take a short nap.
I drifted into a deep sleep, while hearing the patter of rain, hit against my window.
I woke up by the sound of the front door open. It was my mom. I hopped off my bed, walking out of my room to greet her.
My mom wasnāt as beautiful as many other woman, but, she was a great mother.
One of the elegant parts of my mom was her slender body shape. She had an hourglass figure and whatever she wore, she looked good in.
āHi momā I said to her as I watched her place her umbrella beside mine.
āTeresa, are you hungry?ā She asked me as she walked over to the kitchen, while tying up her wavy brown hair.
I nodded at her as I walking beside her, watching her take out a few ingredients from the refrigerator and start cooking.
Finally the food had cooked.
I set the table as my mom placed a small pot full of soup in top of a heat rack.
My mom poured soup in each of our bowls as we started to eat.
āHow was school?ā My mom asked as she took a sip from her bowl.
āBoring as usualā I answered with slightly obvious tone.
She laughed. It seemed obvious to her as well. āAnd friends?ā She asked gently.
āMom, I have friends. Who do you think I am?ā I said to her with teasing look.
She laughed again. āAnd love?ā She asked again.
My mouth gapped immediately at the familiar word. āM..mom!ā I stuttered.
āIām sorry dear, Iām just curious ā A mom needs to know these thingsā She said in between her chuckling laughter.
I frowned at her. It wasnāt amusing to me at all.
I sighed.
My mom looked at me with an entertained smile. āOh, come on, Teresa. You should, at least, have someone you likeā
āN..no, Mom, thereās no oneā I tried to stay calm. āI donāt, seriouslyā I said to her.
She gazed at me for a brief second, before considering my reply. āAlright, Alrightā She murmured.
I sighed. āIll do the dishes todayā I said as I stood up from my seat with my empty bowl.
Mom gave me a grateful smile. āThank you, dearā She said, running over to cuddle me from behind.
I smiled back at her. Her gentle arms cradled me, filling the room with everlasting warmth.
I watched the bowl as it clashed against the other dishes in the sink.
Grabbing the sponge, I began scrubbing the used dishes.
The warm arms of my mother were gently removed with the slightest movements,
She gave me a soft kiss on my light forehead before heading to her own room for some rest.
She had work, early tomorrow, so she had to rest earlier than I did.
The next morning, I woke up yawning. Mom had already gone to work early.
She had three works per day. First she did morning shifts at a local supermarket, then she would be working as a waitress in a restaurant all through lunch till 3, then she would be singing at a nightclub from 4-8.
She was quite a busy mom, I could tell you that. I donāt even know how she could work so actively without collapsing onto the ground the next morning. But if she didnāt work as hard as she did, we wouldnāt have enough money to survive. And I thank her for that.
I strolled out of my room, heading to the kitchen to grab my breakfast.
Opening the kitchen cupboard, I took out a loaf of bread, popping it in the toaster.
As the toasts flew up, I grabbed them, spreading them with butter. Biting the buttered toast, I walked out, locking the door behind me. With my school bag, I headed towards the school.
I reached the school in just a couple of minutes.
Pushing the main door open, I walk through the crowd of students towards my first class. Englishā¦.Great, one subject that I wasnāt good in.
I walked in the classroom, sitting down at the real end of the classroom, watching the light fluffy clouds that raced past my view.
It didnāt seem like it was going to rain today, but who knows. At times the days would look as if it wasnāt going to at all, but in the end, it would.
The weather really was weird over here. You never know when you can have a bright shimmering day.
My thoughts were interrupted as I heard the door slam open. I looked up, seeing a tall, bold looking young man. He had an ostentatious dark brown suit, matching his bright blue eyes and ruffled, chocolate hair.
I watched as he clicked his feet towards the front of the class, placing a folder on the front table. āHello class. My name is Christopher Campbell, and I will be your English teacher for this semester.ā His voice was gentle as he introduced himself to the class.
I watched as he slipped opened the folder, gracefully clicking his pen, while calling out all the names down the list.
As he gradually made his way to mine, I watched as I noticed a small smile that painted his lips. I waited as he came to my name. āTeresa Whiteā He called.
His elegant voice soothed against my earlobes as he carved my imperfect name smoothly past his lips.
I answered with a quick āYesā
He gave me a short smile as he began the lesson.
I wasnāt paying much attention to the lesson; I was more concentrated on how he had attracted me so easily.
I watched his smooth movements, like a lion, waiting for itsā pray.
As the bell
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