Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, I felt as if I had a hammer pounding my head really hard. I could barely think anything; it distracted me badly, making me wince several times. My phone buzzed next to me, and I reluctantly grabbed it to see the message, the light of the screen bothered me notoriously as I looked at it.
Aiden:
Are you busy?
I responded:
No, something happened?
Aiden:
Can I come over?
I felt a little fear as I typed my answer.
Sure.
Aiden:
I'll be there in 15 minutes.
And so I waited. My headache didn't lower, not even a bit. But my head managed to still work into thinking ideas of what could Aiden probable had to tell me. Of course, it was something bad. I knew it. What I wonder was how bad it was. Maybe it was insignificant, just a small
