Simply Tragic

Chapter 4: Little universe of hell

Little universe of hell

Your heart feels even the things it doesn't want to.

***

Lexie stirred beneath the sheets into part wakefulness, she quieted her squealing alarm with a groan and rubbed her eyes. The eroded paint up her ceiling was still blurry. Rainy waters in season often sipped through, drawing that ugly patch. She wistfully sighed aware she had much worse to stomach that day.

Brats! Even Mr. Peterson called them out, he however esteemed Lexie, almost as much as he did his granddaughter Wonder who was a grade lower. Hastily, she jumped out of bed shaking off the remaining vestiges of her sleep. She stepped into the shower disoriented, hobbling about, failing to keep pace.

Ten minutes is all she spared to be ready. Luckily, Friday's perks entailed a dress code freedom. Some showed face in short shorts, others in fancy editions, the ethereal with their peculiarity, as did the nerds who groomed rather too official for her preference. Kimberly stayed trendy in her ever daring outfits but for Lexie, simplicity and comfort was all she cared for. She never sulked about outmatching the wannabes at her school.

Well, thank God for uniform-free days. It had been a busy week, what with mounds of assignments? She'd barely gotten time for laundry. Her legs slid into the black pants she'd snagged, old jeans with holes no designer had made. Without rummaging her cupboard, she picked a white top splattered her inexpensive cologne and hurriedly grabbed her bag. She'd hoped to catch her ride, it was seven minutes past seven when she got downstairs. She frowned, cursing lowly as she watched the school bus chug off.

There was no way she'd make it on time, a fogginess settled in her fatigued mind despite the morning breeze rustling the curtains. She glanced through the window and wrinkled her nose.

"Great!" She groused.

***

"Lexie!" Kayla had yelped.

"What mom?" She turned to meet Kayla by the kitchen counter. She stopped stroking an apple from the punnet and waved, beckoning her for breakfast.

"Really? Not now mom!" She snapped and scurried out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Kayla stood straight bemused, her jaw slackened somewhat hurt, there was a resentment from Lexie, obviously from the previous night. She sipped her cup of hot black tea whence checking the time, she almost spewed. Oh dear me, she's late!

She was left alone in her humble home, seeking solace while sorting through several matters that had been shifting within her. "At least I manage meeting our needs," she sighed, thinking out loud. Lexie had applauded and appreciated her for this very fact.

With Katherine away she'd been working like an ass and had opted for an off, which was rather blissful that her weekend kicked in early. Silly me, you'd think I'd actually rest, she replaced her cleaned mug on the rack and made way upstairs simpering. There she picked their laundry for wash, dusted her drawers and shelves all too laboriously. She swept off dirt from the carpet, mopped the living room, wiped the smudge-stained kitchen windows and took out garbage. But deep cleaning was never exhaustive until their bathroom was thoroughly scrubbed. Ultimately, she freshened up from her clammy cleaning gear dampened with perspiration.

A cold shower had a good feel to her lean body, she merrily hummed a tune stepping out of their bathroom wrapped in her light green floral towel. When she pulled her drawer open to grab her brassiere a ghastly stance overtook her and she froze, numbed.

The letter! She fumbled, recalling the young man who'd dropped it off the night before. She couldn't remember his name but then again she was uncertain if he even mentioned. Still, that was her least concern, why she hadn't read it already brought anxietude. She stared at it, her forgetfulness was rather foreboding, given the facts, she grabbed it and sat at the edge of her bed, nervously. Strange. It didn't have a return address, just her name calligraphed in black ink.

What are phones for? She pondered, I mean which century is this? She lifted the mud-stained white envelope against the light to peek through. Good, no microchip, she sighed in relief. Slowly and carefully she tore the edge of her envelope.

***

"Miss Pearson," Her name replayed in her eardrums. Lexie looked up to meet an unfamiliar individual. Her heart thudded imagining the worst of humiliations. She was transfixed on the ground and a jittery feel crept in with damning thoughts rattling her. Her world was coming undone, in the silence, she swore to have heard a pin drop, much to her detest. And her throat seared from the sickening glares, she swallowed a lump of saliva.

Omen, she fought the predicament with a lowly anguished groan. Her chest was suddenly congested, this is torture, if only I could vanish. But then again, it'd mean not hearing the end of taunts among eleventh graders. Fake a faint Lexie was her mind's repetitive resolve, after all, her best friend usually got away with it. How she wished she'd just close her eyes and cease to exist in that moment but that's all it was, a whimsical wish.

And her classmates gazed, with eyes critiquing her attire, or so she thought from their muttering mouths. Someone cackled when the teacher mumbled something she'd failed to perceive. She suddenly felt insecure, lost in a temporary trance where she stood mute, in the subtlety of it all. Mr. Peterson would never bash me in such a manner. Blood supped to her cheeks and she instantaneously downcast her head embarrassed.

It was Friday, her best day of the week yet she was the least excited. Her fears remained, this was just the tip of the iceberg and the worst was yet to come.

***

A/N:

Enjoy reading ahead! :) Your feedback will be appreciated.