High Life | ✔️

27

THE LAST TIME I caught myself crying, I was nowhere near in this much of trouble. An acute ache flared up my sternum. I just, I just wanted to be a daughter who made her parents proud. I wanted my childhood back, I missed the feeling of being carefree. Missed the days where my problems had to do with decisions regarding which toy to play.

I curled up in my duvet. I couldn't sleep.

It was so dark and grimy. The only windows had been high, slit windows at the top of the farthest wall. There had been a distant dripping noise. The walls were a stark white against the old wooden flooring, too white. Almost as though the fresh coat of paint served to cover something.

Bloodstains, was the first thing that came to mind.

I was scared. I'd been telling myself I wasn't and I'd been suffocating on the cognizance, suppressing it whenever it surfaced. But it was beginning to hurt, truth clawing to be heard. I choked on sobs as I admitted to myself: I'm scared. I'm fucking scared.

"Five million? That's a lot of money for a young girl like you."

"Do you know who I am?"

"No..."

"My family owns Comerica."

"Holy fuck."

And fucking disgusted with myself. But shit happens. Worse things have definitely transpired, but I'd always kept it to myself. They were my baggages and I could never drag anyone down with me. I kept it bottled, honest to God, I'm not this person; I couldn't recognize myself.

I was fourteen when Patrick raped me. Christ, I was fourteen. I never asked for it, I was at a physical disadvantage. Both in terms of size and sobriety. My dad's company, at that time was hitting off. Both parents of mine had been out of state for more than a month. I was lonely, I felt neglected, god forbid I attend my first party.

I was vulnerable, Patrick, my boyfriend, had been 'friendly'. Rest should be self explanatory. I was scared back then, but nowhere near as scared as I currently felt.

I missed my parents.

"Prove it," Business Suit had said.

I'd chucked the file of papers onto the desk. Something the three men had rushed to sieve through. I saw their eyes, saw the dollar signs in their eyes. I didn't need a calculator to know what kind of interest came out of a five million dollar loan.

Loansharks these days call themselves licensed moneylenders. But so much as fuck up, they'll slash your entire family. Loansharks today, loansharks back in the day, same goddamn thing.

I reached for my phone. It was charging, and warm to the touch. I relinquished in the warmth. It was close to 2am. I dialled Jaxon's number, and I waited.

I tried to sync my breathing with the dialing tone.

"Hey - "

"Jaxon." I breathed.

" - if you're hearing this, I'm either busy or asleep. Just leave a message, I'll call you back as soon as convenient."

I ripped my phone from its charger and flung it across the room.

✖️✖️✖️

All felt well the following morning. There was a buzz amidst the rich students, hushed whispers that turned into giggles sometimes.

"What's going on?" I asked, as I took my seat beside Jaxon. He was my new seat mate in Calculus now, I looked forward to copying off his tests.

"Why'd you call?" He asked back.

I shrugged. "Oh, I was bored. But I'm good now."

Jaxon turned to face me. The thing about staring at your seat mate is that proximity is near non-existent. I inhaled deeply, quite nearly getting lost in his eyes and forgetting all of my troubles. But then he frowned in concern.

"You okay?" He asked in a gentler voice. "You, ah - your eyes look swollen."

My heart beat staccato-ed. I turned my face away, focusing on the board at the front of the class. "It's nothing. I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh," he said. "Why not?"

"I just have difficulty sleeping sometimes," I lied easily, eyes not meeting his. "Why are the students so excited?"

Jaxon was silent for a few moments, seemingly pondering my answer, before deciding to let it go. "Student council's calling for elections," he explained. "For President and Vice-President anyway. Also there's some rumor circulating about a girl who smuggled some guy into her room and got away with it."

I tried very hard to maintain composure. "President and Vice-president? What happened to Chelsea and Elias?"

"Chelsea transferred out with her mom, the principal... As for Elias, well uh, he resigned."

I took this in with interest. "Who are the presidential candidates?"

"Each faction sends a representative, why?" He prodded. "You planning to apply?"

I laughed sarcastically as Ms. Elliot began class. She informed us of a Calculus test that will take place the following day. I gulped a lump down my throat - I was going through so much more than any student here could understand. It didn't feel fair that I had to endure everything on my own.

My phone's screen was cracked, I couldn't unlock it. But it displayed the incoming messages and time. Throughout class, my phone wouldn't stop lighting up with concerned texts from Marc. Jaxon eyed the contraption several times, in curiosity.

Finally, when Ms. Elliot gave us a break, he asked.

"What's up with this Marc guy?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Jaxon raised an eyebrow as my phone, once more lit up.

I sighed, bringing my phone before me to read some of the texts on the lock screen.

Andie you good? Please reply me please

I hope you didn't do anything dumb

I really hope you're ok, I'm sorry for coming.

I sighed once more, turning to face Jaxon. My mouth parted and closed as I contemplated if I should share my troubles with him. On one hand, we were hardly close enough for me to open up, on the other hand I could certainly use the perspective of a third party, especially one as insightful as Jaxon.

"I'll tell you later." I said as I got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I lied.