Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site


Novel By: KatyLee
Young adult

Leila is dead. She just can't remember why, or how. And instead of the nothingness that she expected would come after death, she's thrown into a strange new place where she is expected to get along with the mega bitch that is Lisa, not to fall in love with Harry, and most importantly; recover. The only problem is, Leila just doesn't know what it is she's recovering from. View table of contents...


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Submitted:Mar 25, 2013    Reads: 7    Comments: 2    Likes: 0   

We stayed like that for what seemed like ages, discussing all sorts of music. It was only when Shona came in and switched on the light that I realised we'd been standing so close, we could of kept a magazine between us. I was lying in bed now, replaying the afternoon happily in my head. I felt so weird. How was it that an attractive boy, with exceptional music taste and a brilliant sense of humour, wanted to talk to me? Not only talk to me, but stand practically nose to nose whilst we did? It was strange, but I wasn't going to question it. I may have only known him for a short amount of time, but he seemed almost perfect. I couldn't stop thinking about how I felt when he held me, when he laughed, when he looked at me and smiled, standing in the darkness, close enough to kiss. Was it love? God, I felt ridiculously naive. Of course it wasn't love! I wasn't the girl who fell in love and was happy. Every time I thought of love, my heart skipped and one word flashed into my mind; Darren. Why? I just wanted to watch that video. I didn't know why I had done what I did, but I was pretty sure that Darren had something to do with it.

I tried to force my mind to remember but it remained blank. I could see Darren smiling at me, asking for my number, giving me his. Then what happened? Well, clearly something bad. Dark thoughts flooded my mind. I wondered how I'd done it. I had never had the guts to cut myself, so I can't have done it that way. I guess I must've jumped off of somewhere, so my mum didn't have to find me. But then, could I really guess how? I would ever have thought I'd do something like that, something so devastating and selfish. As much as I hated to think, I just didn't know myself anymore.

"Leeela" Shona called softly through the door. It felt exactly like a school morning; I could almost smell the coffee my mum made every morning, and my nose scrunched in anticipation of her strong, prickly perfume. My heart sunk a little as I remembered. I wondered how my mum was. Did she miss me? I suppose she must do a little. We spent hardly any time together, because she worked so much. She'd make sure I was awake in the morning, and then leave for work, pop back home at around 7 to give me some dinner and make sure I was actually at home, but then she'd leave again. I assumed she went back to work or to the gym, but I never really knew. I'd be up in my room by the time she got back. Once or twice a week she'd get drunk when she got home, and stumble into my room late at night burbling. I always felt uncomfortable when she bent her head next to mine, so I'd pretend to be asleep. Her hair would tickle my nose and she'd sloppily kiss my cheek. I always felt bad when she hovered by me, obviously waiting for me to react, but I hated dealing with her when she was a drunken mess. Maybe she was drunk now. Maybe she was drinking herself into a silent death, desperately calling out for help but no one was seeing it. I hoped she missed me, because right now I was realising just how much I missed her. But now it was too late, I'm here and she's there and it's just too late.

"Leila!" Shona called again, louder. I groaned in response. "Oh good, you're awake. Everyone is waiting for you at therapy." I was getting seriously sick of getting up every morning. Shouldn't I at least have special powers or something? I was dead, but I was basically still living. This place is basically a mental hospital, for dead people. Oh god, never did I think I'd be in a place like this. Everything about me is changing, way too fast for me to catch up with.

"Right, now that everyone is here," Robs gaze met mine and lingered; he was obviously annoyed I had been late. "Let's get cracking shall we? David, how about you go?" He stood up nervously, and then sat back down again. He was wringing his hands together, his usual chatty and funny self strangely subdued. "Well, erm, it's not very interesting. My mum and dad weren't accepting of me being, erm, gay, so they kicked me out. Soon after, my mum died in a car accident. I went to the funeral, but my dad didn't even speak to me. Hardly anyone did. Then when my boyfriend dumped me and I started seeing less of my friends, I got depressed. I stopped working, started losing all my savings. I only had two weeks till I got kicked out of my flat, and I had no money and nowhere to go. Not to mention my dad sending me texts, saying that I could only speak to him once I'd cured my disease. He said that mum dying was my fault, she was so upset and shocked by me that she couldn't concentrate on driving. So when the final demand letters came, telling me I was going to be kicked out the next day, I just decided to end it. What's the point in living if no one wants you there?" his voice cracked but he held it together, right till the end.

Rob shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no. No, I don't regret doing it. But I know it was wrong, and I'm so happy to have another chance at life. Honestly." Rob smiled broadly, pleased with David's answer. "Well done David. You are truly an inspiration, and I'm sure your dad misses you very much. Everyone makes mistakes, and I think your dad will regret his mistakes for the rest of his life." David only nodded briefly. He wanted to move on to a different subject, one that didn't involve him or his dad. I caught his gaze as it wandered round the room. His smile was small and soft, almost emotionless. He had gone from being so bold, so bright, to an empty shell. Maybe he had recovered. Maybe recovering just meant forgetting all your old emotions, all your feelings. Maybe recovering was just their way of preparing you for a new body, getting rid of any trace of emotion that could tip the next body over the edge. I hated this side of the place; the mystery, the dark suspicion. It scared me and I had no way of getting rid of it.

Authors Note; Sorry it's a bit slow moving at the moment, please stick with it though! xo


| Email this story Email this Novel | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.