I've never been a 'cool girl.' I've never gone to parties, never made routine plans to go out with friends. I sit in my room, read my books, and escape the reality that makes me feel crumpled, tired, hated.

I've never been a mean girl. I've never told you that you overcompensate with a laugh bubbling out of my lips, proud of myself for the comeback. I don't wear tight clothing, knowing that there will be stares in the hallways, train rides, or park days.

I've always just been a weird girl. I used to suck the juice out of lemons, loving the sourness as it floats down my throat. I used to be told I was too nerdy, too quiet, too me.

The energy is nearly gone from me now. I don't care what you think of me. But I do. I care. I care so much that it nearly kills me most days. But I am certain of one thing: I'm just me and I don't mind if I'm not for you.

I sat beneath the window of the treehouse that the three of us have called our second home for two decades now. Ethan, Marie, and I had a rough childhood, and now that our parents are living without their three children, they have decided to move out. Between the pair of them, they have decided to tear down the treehouse as the first step of packing up the house. I mostly snuck out to reminisce, but it also helped that Ethan's best friend--Charlie--wasn't here. I could've sworn that if someone left the two of us in a room together, I would kill that son of a bitch. And I would like it. I find a wooly blanket in the cabinet and wrap it around me. I, then, close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, letting sleep overcome me. I didn't realize just how exhausted I was.

I snort myself away what feels like five hours later, but when I check my watch, I see that it's only been forty-five minutes.
"You're cute when you snore," says a voice that I know all too well.
I turn to match the voice to the face and--yep, it's Charlie. Of course it's him. Why would the universe choose to be nice to me when I'm having a rough weekend? It wouldn't. Because it hates me.
"What are you doing here?" I grumble, turning to face the other way and closing my eyes once again. Maybe if I fall back asleep, I can wake up and he won't be here.
"Your mom said you'd be in here." He grabs the blanket and covers himself in it, huddling inside the warmth with me. I fight the urge to tug the cozy material off of him. He doesn't deserve it. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said."
"No, you look. I don't care that you're sleeping with other people. I don't care that you wanted to be roommates, just so I could make our apartment look girly to draw in women you take home. I honestly truly whole-heartedly don't care. About any of it. What I do care about was that you lied to me."
"I'm sorry, April." He sighed, but I didn't believe his apology. It was fake.
"I know that you don't like me. I've known that my entire life. But hearing you talk about me the way you did... that hurt, Charlie. That really fucking hurt."
"I'm--"
"I don't want to hear another apology."
"But I am sorry. You know that, right?"
"Just be quiet for a bit, okay?" I hated the gentleness of my voice. I was supposed to be mad at him, but I was just so tired. "What did my mom want anyway? Wait, don't answer that. I told you not to talk." I shifted my gaze and looked at him. "Was it important?"
He looks into my eyes for what feels like a long time before slowly shaking his head. I tear my gaze away, not being strong enough to hold it. There's too much hurt in his eyes that he only shows around my family. I don't know why he's vulnerable around us. After all these years, I can't bring myself to understand. Ethan says that Charlie and his family have never gotten along, but I don't quite believe that. Charlie has always been annoyingly outgoing. I could never imagine him having family problems.
I let my eyes fall closed again.


I wake up with my head on Charlie's shoulder. I hate how comfortable this feels. I hate how most people have bony skin, but Charlie's is soft. I hate how I know he's awake right now and has been for however long I've been asleep, just letting me rest beside him.
"Morning, sunshine," he says, but it sounds strained.
I look up at him. "What did my mom want?"
"She was gonna come and check on you, but I said that I'd go. I had more to say than she did."
"You do realize that my mom probably wanted to apologize for having to tear down the treehouse, right? Something that actually means something to me. Besides, you only had to apologize for being a dick, she just doesn't know what else to do with her problem."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Yeah, I know you did."
"Why won't you forgive me?"
"Because I've put up with so much of your bullshit. I've slept over at my friends houses, so that you could have the apartment to yourself. I've done so much for someone who constantly pisses me off. I just thought that you respected me."
"I do respect you."
I let out a long sigh. "No, if you honestly respected me, you would've never called me a self-entitled bitch."
"But I didn't--!"
"Mean it?"
"Of course I didn't mean it! I was playing a part. I was just trying to get a girl into bed and she saw something that you left lying around. She was starting to get jealous, so I made up a lie."
"It sounded real to me," I grumbled.
"Yeah, that was sort of the point." He paused before continuing. "I didn't mean it, April."
I let out an audible scoff, and before I could turn away, I felt Charlie's fingers gently grip my chin and direct my gaze to his. "I didn't mean it," he whispers.
"Okay, fine. Apology accepted. Whatever. Can you go now?"
"No."
I groaned in frustration. "I'm gonna kill you. I'm actually going to kill you."
"Got a murder kink?" He was smirking. Well, at least he was back to his usual self.
"Do YOU have a murder kink, you weirdo?"
He shakes his head. "I have an April kink." His eyes suddenly heat up with something the both of us have been trying to hide for too long and I look away.
"You're hogging the blanket."
He pulls the blanket off of him and wraps it tightly around my body. He moves to sit in front of me, waiting for me to look at him before continuing.
"I get that you're not ready for this to happen. That's okay. I'm a patient man and I honestly would have given up by now if I thought you didn't want this. But you do want it, don't you? So, take your time. I'll be waiting."
He pressed a kiss to my cheek, slowly stood up, and climbed down the treehouse.
Somehow that was all the closure I needed for this structure. It was just a playhouse made out of wood, if you really thought about it. I followed Charlie inside and swallowed my fear.
"Wait, Charlie! I have something to tell you!"

It starts like this: You meet a guy, and he makes you feel oh so high on life. He takes you on a date, and you think, "Maybe it's fate that the two of us are here right now." He gives you a kiss, and you feel positively alive, buzzing with all the excitement.

Once you're together, he pulls away, just enough to keep you on his little string, giving you just enough to question things but also enough to make you want him still. Things are going wonderfully now, but you feel him losing interest. He starts to hang out with his friends more than you, and the next thing you know, he's standing in front of you saying that he's slept with another woman.

Now you're alone, wondering where you went wrong. What you could've done to fix it. Suddenly a thought pops into your head: When does a man become a monster?

Socker:

Sockers are sock shaped creatures that only appear when there is a child in need. They function as imaginary friends, of sorts, and can be summoned whenever the child feels lonely or scared. Sockers typically stay loyal to their friends—they don't refer to them as customers or clients—though, when the child reaches an age where they don't need the Socker anymore, they move on to the next child. Sockers have the ability of advanced memory programmed into them upon creation, which is why they remember everything about their past friends, and hold it with them until their death—which only occurs when they have helped a total of 100 kids for the better.

she sat on the top step of her front porch looking up at the night sky. you couldn't see much here in the city but she always wanted to try. the moon called to her and the stars twinkled her name.

as she sat there with her ex-husband's wool sweater wrapped around her shoulders, with a mug of tea in her hands, she tried to remember what he was like. how his voice sounded when he was exhausted, how his hair looked after a long shower, how he desperately wanted to make her happy all the time, no matter the cost.

the stars were what she liked most about the sky because they reminded her of him. of everything she lost, of everything she gained all those years ago. then, one by one, they started to fall.

she sat on the plush green grass watching the clouds as they moved across the sky red and orange orange and yellow yellow and pink all the colours bringing a burst of colour to the blue sky

a boy sat down beside her his hand resting just a few centimeters away from hers his eyes looking at her as she watched the beautiful skies he watched her

he watched as her eyes widened in awe of the clouds drifting past the mountain he watched as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face he watched as she let out a deep sigh her shoulders slumping back before tensing again he wanted to say something tell her that things would work themselves out

but he just stared at the beautiful skies hoping he would see them as she did.

it always starts here, the promise to stay for life, but they never do. would you be just like them, babe? would you risk it all for me?

I knew that I shouldn't be snooping through his stuff. It was HIS after all. I couldn't help myself, though. He wasn't home and my insecurities got the best of me. I opened his bag to find a variety of things that I wouldn't have actually expected to find. There was a book (though I couldn't tell what the title was, since it was so old the cover had mostly rubbed off), a pack of gum, a phone charger, and a ring. Wait. Is that right? Did I actually see a ring in there? No, it can't be. He's only dating ME... Right? But he can't have bought the ring for me. We've only been dating for 6 months. Though, he does always say, "when you know, you know." Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions. He could just be buying me a ring for our anniversary. It IS next week. In the past three minutes, I have somehow made the decision to open the box. I know it's not the right thing to do. I know I'm snooping; but a part of me just can't forget about it. I need to know what's in the box. The next thing I know, I'm opening the black velvety box that could potentially change my life forever. Oh my God. I almost scream out loud. There's a ring and it's an engagement ring. "Snooping, are we now?" I almost drop the expensive-ass ring at the sound of his voice. God, I love his voice. " I... I was just..." "Mhmhm. You were snooping, babe. Ruining the surprise, but it's alright." "You mean... It's for me?" "Yeah, it's for you. Who else would it be for?" "I don't know. Maybe you have a side chick." "It was meant to be for you. I only ever wanted it to be for you. Do you get that?" "Holy shit... Is this your grandmother's ring?" He nodded his head and hummed a sound that l knew meant yes. That was the moment I knew my life was going to change.

"Next!" Breathe. You've got this. You can do this. Just don't look too closely at their faces when you're performing. You can get this part. I keep repeating the same sweet nothings to myself, while I make my way to the audition room, but I know myself. I know that I'm going to fuck this up, just like I always do. I get to the small stage that has been placed in the front of the room, take a deep breath, and then turn around to see only one person sitting at the "judging table"--I do realize that it's not called that, but my anxiety ridden brain came up with the term and it has stuck ever since. My eyes feel like they bulge out of my skull, my jaw dropping to the floor. The sole person sitting at the table, the person who will be judging my scene, possibly casting me is none other than my ex-boyfriend Bradley. "What are you..." I try to ask, but couldn't find it in me to come up with a possible full sentence to ask the man who broke my heart into what seems like a million tiny pieces. "I'm the director for this film. I didn't know you were into acting." His face is as emotionless as a rock. Can't he give me anything to go off of? Is he in pain? Is he over me? Does he hate me in the same way that I hate him? "How could you not know I'm into acting? I went on auditions all the time when we were dating! You just never paid attention, did you?" His face stayed the same. "Is this going to be a problem? Because if you don't think you can handle this, you should probably walk right out that door." "Like you did?" "Stella." He let out a long frustrated breath, resting his head in his hands. "Fine. I'll go, but it's not because I can't handle this. It's because you don't deserve my wonderful acting expertise on your dumb pathetic film!" "You're the one who came here to audition in the first place. Do not turn this on me because you are in shock that I'm the director and writer of said 'dumb pathetic film'." I scoffed at his audacity. "You are just as infuriating as I remember. Goodbye." I walked out of the room, not looking back once. I held my head high as I heard his bored tone of voice call for the next actor to go in to complete their audition.

"I was gone for five minutes! What happened here?" Vivian breathed out a satisfied sigh. "You're so pretty." She reached out her hand to touch his face. She wanted to rub her fingers over his cheek, it looked so smooth. Christian took an instinctive step back, giving himself some space from her. "You're drunk." "Mhm, maybe, but I'll be sober tomorrow and you'll still be pretty." Christian practically pushed the bottle of water in between them, covering the space, not giving her the opportunity to close the distance. She eyed him suspiciously, with a brow raised. "Drink," he demanded. The words sent a chill up and down Vivian's spine. She twisted open the bottle cap and chugged the cold water, spilling it down her chin in the process. Christian's eyes filled with heat as he looked at her. She threw the bottle into a garbage can nearby, without having to look at it. Christian's gaze dropped to her mouth, watching with startling attentiveness as she grazed her tongue over her lips. Christian cleared his throat. "You got a little..." his finger motioned to the water still leaking down her chin. She raised her eyebrows, wanting him to say the words. "Just let me get it for you." He moved forward and used his thumb to wipe the liquid off her chin. She stared at him until he met her gaze. She didn't look away, she didn't even flinch. "Let's get you home, Viv."