I Need To Get Away

I Need To Get Away - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve - Carley's POV

After the first guy had left, I immediately went back up to my room and sat on the floor leaning against the wall, feeling the tears slowly fall down my face. Across the room from me was the grimey mirror, and I stared at my reflection. This action took me back to just before I had left, in the school toilets. That was the last time I had watched myself cry in front of a mirror. I hated the emotions that this brought back, and the tears fell harder and faster.

So much has changed since then, back when I was just crying in my school toilets. For one I look completely different; even I don't recognise my own reflection. Gone is the long blonde hair I was once envied for, replaced my cheap looking red...I don't even know what to call it. Strands? Mop? Why did I ever dye it? I know the answer to that - it's so that I  wasn't recognisable. I guess it worked.

Gone is the twinkle from my eye that I guess came from security: knowing what I had around me and being comfortable with that. I miss that now. It's try when they say that you never really know what you have until it is gone.

Gone is the confidence I used to have. Hopefully I wasn't over confident (I can't stand cocky, arrogant people) but I wasn't shying away in corners or anything like that. I wasn't one of those people who thought that everyone was against them.

Gone is the carefree attitude that I was once labelled by. I would just go with the flow, always trying to laugh and have fun. If someone wanted to get on a bus and go anywhere, I would. If someone wanted to put as many bras on as we possibly could to try and make our boobs look bigger, I would. If someone wanted to pour sugar into my eyes to see what would happen (in NO WAY do I recommend this, it stings more than you could ever believe, trust me), then I would oblige for the amusement of others.

Gone is Matt, always around me, always attempting to make me laugh or smile in some kind of way. I say attempting; he always succeeded. Even by looking at me in a certain way he could make me smile, and then grin, his smile lighting up his entire face, eyes dancing mischieviously. Whenever he made me laugh or smile when I was upset or angry, he would always cry out "Made you smile (or laugh, depending) you have to be happy!" I would usually respond to this with an eye roll and a shake of the head, because it was true: I was happy, because of him.

He was always so...grounded, when I was a complete mess. I could be wailing miserably about the most trivial of things and he would be able to put everything into perspective. If I was ever upset he would offer his take on the problem, offering a new light on everything that could immediately cheer me up. If there was nothing he could do or say to cheer me up he would simply listen to my moans and wipe away my tears with the sleeve of his hoodie, immersing me in one of his warm hugs.

Mmm, Matt's hugs. He gave the best hugs that I ever knew. I could just burrow into his warm, soothing arms and everything would suddenly feel better. It was almost as if when he wrapped his arms around me he was enveloping me with this bubble where no harm could happen and nothing could go wrong.

My woeful thoughts were sharply cut off by an ear piercing scream from downstairs. I was not entirely sure, but it seemed to be coming in the general direction of the "private rooms". I stayed where I was, frozen, deafened by the silence that followed the scream.

After a few moments filled with dread and horror, another scream came, however this time less ear piercing and more shocked; it almost had a gaspy quality to it. Then came more screams, each one different to the last - some scared, some shocked, some loud, some with hardly any noise at all.

My mouth developed a bitter, metallic taste from fear as I slowly began to stand up and move cautiously to the door, the screams still filling up the air around me. I brought a shaky hand up to the handle and opened the door, walking towards the "private rooms" at a snails pace.