The Boy Who Sneaks In My Bedroom Window(3)

By: Kirsty Moseley



I started to sob so Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently. He always seemed so much older than me; he was so much more mature than I was. “It’s OK. Everything’s OK, Ambs. Don’t worry,” he cooed, stroking my hair. Once I had calmed down, and the shouting had stopped, we played snap cards for a little while.

When we were in the middle of the game, we heard stomping coming up the hallway, Jake stiffened as the footsteps went past my door. They didn’t stop though, thank God. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding and looked at Jake, who smiled a small smile. “I’d better go to my room, it’s after seven,” he said looking at my alarm clock. “Lock your door. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said with a wink. He left the room and I watched him creep across the hall to his room, he turned back to me. “Lock your door, Ambs,” he whispered, waiting there, watching me.

I shut my door and locked it quickly as he told me to. Putting my ear to the wood, I listened to make sure that Jake did the same to his. I ran back over to my bed and threw myself on it, crying silently. I couldn’t stop, I was sobbing and sobbing. I had been stupid tonight and I got my brother hurt again! And probably my mother too, by the sound of the noises from the lounge.

Suddenly, there was a scratching, tapping noise on my window. I snapped my eyes up to see Liam outside, looking at me sadly. I got up and ran to the window unlocked it and slid it up quietly wondering what on earth he was doing here. Shouldn’t he be at home?

“Liam, what are you doing here? You need to go, now!” I whisper yelled at him, shaking my head fiercely. But the stupid boy just climbed into my room through the window, closing it silently behind him.

I held my breath, looking at my door with wide eyes. If my father caught him here he would go crazy, he didn’t like Liam to come over and play at our house, he always said he was too noisy. “Liam, get out!” I whispered, desperately trying to push him back towards the window. I winced, wondering what my dad would do if he had heard my window open and knew that Liam was here. Liam didn’t budge; he just wrapped his arms around me tightly, and pulled me against his chest. I tried to push him away but he just held me tighter.

“It’s OK,” he whispered, stroking my hair. I started to cry again into his chest; thoughts of Jake being hurt earlier flooded my brain.

Liam was tall for his age; he was ten, the same as Jake. They were best friends, and had been since we moved in four years ago. He had chocolate brown hair, which he usually spiked up with too much gel, and light blue eyes that were like windows to his soul. When Liam looked at you it made you feel like you could fly. He was very cute; all my friends had crushes on him for some reason. Liam and I didn’t get on at all though. He teased me all the time, he trips me, pulls my hair, and he has this annoying habit of calling me Angel for some reason, he’s called me it since the moment he met me and it really makes me mad.

What on earth was he doing here now? And why was he hugging me? Maybe he thought this was Jake’s room, maybe he went to the wrong window – but that couldn’t be right, because Jake’s room was on the other side of the hallway, his window faced onto the backyard.

I pulled back to look at him. For some reason he looked so sad; he had tears in his eyes as he just continued to hold me. He knew about my father, Jake had been covered in bruises once and had blurted out the truth to him. Jake and I had both begged him not to say anything though, and he never has.

“What are you doing here, Liam?” I whispered, wiping my face, but the tears continued to fall.

He pulled me onto the bed, rocking me gently, just like Jake always did when I cried. I looked at his chest and realised he was in Power Rangers shorts and t-shirt. I frowned, a little confused as to why he would be wearing that, it was freezing outside. Then it dawned on me that he was wearing his pyjamas. I looked at the clock to see it was almost half past eight. I’d been crying for over an hour.

“I saw you through the window. I just wanted to come and make sure you were alright,” he whispered back, still hugging me tightly.

I looked back at the window. Liam’s room was directly opposite mine and I could see into his room, which meant that he could see into mine. I bit my lip, oh God he’d seen me crying, I must look so weak to him. The only people I ever cried in front of were my mother and Jake.

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