One night when I was around 16, I was sitting in my room scrolling through Instagram posts when I got a DM from my crush.
Angel_the_ghost: i have to tell u something😉
Ghost_Queen01: what is it lol
Angel_the_ghost: i want u😏😉😍
I reread the sentence a few times and wondered if he was joking.
Ghost_Queen01: 😮really
Angel_the_ghost: yep😉
Angel_the_ghost: and I want u to come to my house so we can have some fun😉😏😍
I realized that he wasn’t joking and did a little (completely embarrassing) victory dance. I had liked him for a while, but I had no idea that he actually liked me. I decided that I should say something.
Ghost_Queen01: ok😉
I got up and checked my mirror to see how I looked. My bright blue hair was in a messy bun on top of my head and I was wearing black sweatpants and a set it off tee shirt.
“This outfit definitely won’t work,” I said to myself. I went to my walk-in closet to change my clothes and hair. I decided to wear what I liked, since Angel already knew how weird I was. I decided to wear a black crop top with black leather shorts and my black collar (with a gold bell, of course) and put my hair in a high ponytail. As I was leaving the closet I decided to put on some red lipstick.
I walked across the street to his house and his window was open. ‘His parents must be home,’ I thought, as I climbed in and silently shut the window behind me. I noticed that his clothes were on the floor beside his bed. ‘Ooh, fancy pudding,’ I thought (quoting the show “liv and maddie”) and resisted the urge to laugh. When I thought I had control over myself, I walked over to the bed. When I was a few steps away, someone grabbed me from behind and held a knife to my throat.
“Let me guess, you’re going to kill me,” I said, sounding bored.
“Yes, now stay quiet,” the man’s voice was rough, and he sounded around my age.
“Fine,” I replied, still bored, “but at least let me have some fun first.” I was smirking when I said the last part. This seemed to surprise the guy.
“What?” he said, sounding shocked.
“You heard me. Now go on for a few minutes,” I replied, still smirking. When he didn’t move, I said, “or stay, if you want.”
“You do realize that he’s dead, right?” he said, making me laugh.
“Of course I know he’s dead, he would scream if he wasn’t,” I replied, still laughing.
He removed the knife from my throat and said, “Whatever. My name’s Rowdy, by the way.”
“I’m Kitty,” I replied, and continued walking to the bed.
And that’s the story of how I met my best friend.
