#instakill

Chapter #5 - Open up your mind and let me step inside

Open up your mind and let me step inside

Rest your weary head and let your heart decide

It's so easy when you know the rules 

Tuesday, november 12th

Coldness has settled in Anjou: it's definitely over for little dresses this year, too bad for my community. After a three-day weekend, the classes seem increasingly unbearable, and I've been stomping around all day. Lucie suggested we go to her place to do our homework, and since the dance teacher is still not recovered, I accepted—it'll spare me Charly's grumpy face.

My friend lives in the same housing estate as me, a stone's throw from the school, in a house that looks a lot like ours, except the decor isn't as sophisticated as mine. I nag Lucie to ask her parents to redo her room, but it's no use. What a noodle! We settle down at the living room table and spread out our notebooks and pencils. We work just as much as we chat, to the point that Lucie's mom, lying on the couch, gets up with a slam of her book.

— Alright, girls, do your homework first and then you can have fun! Get to work!

I reply in a falsely contrite voice:

— Yes, Mrs. Belin.

She grimaces and sighs.

— It was my mother, Mrs. Belin. Call me Nadine. You can use informal language with me.

— Okay, Mad... Nadine.

She bursts into laughter and puts her novel back on the bookshelf. I think it looks classy to have a few monochrome books in a house. Laid casually on a glass coffee table, it looks cool, but here it's a mess: books of all shapes and colors, my sense of aesthetics is offended. They aren't even titles by well-known authors—who knows AAA, Amalia, or Anton Medvedev the Blood King? Poor Lucie's family really lacks in decoration... Fortunately, what they lack in swag is compensated by Nadine's kindness, a mother hen who would do anything for her two daughters. She even comes to check on our homework progress behind her red and black butterfly glasses.

— Yeah, well, it's not progressing much, is it?

— But yes, mom, don't worry.

She gives us a dubious look, grabs a new book, and settles back on the couch. So, we buckle down and maintain silence; fifteen minutes later, we're done and resume our chatter.

— Did you girls finish?

— Yes, mom!

— Ah!

Nadine puts her book down, stands up, and comes to inspect our work, lips pursed. Eventually, she breaks into a smile.

— Alright, that'll do for today.

Then, I receive an Insta notification. Vincent just posted, and it's a video of him at target practice, with his father's boar hunting rifle. His target: a scarecrow... dressed in a red wig and a blue jacket. Lucie and Nadine look over my shoulder, and my friend can't help but exclaim:

— That's not cool! Poor Terry.

As my mother would say, I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. It's odious for Terry. But it's Vincent... My crush.

— Who's Terry? asks Nadine.

— A boy in our class, mom. A little redhead that the guys won't stop picking on...

I notice Nadine's furtive glance towards the photo frame of her son on the buffet. Sadness momentarily clouds her features. From what I've gathered in whispers, he committed suicide due to bullying, and thinking about it sends me into an uncomfortable malaise. Without thinking, I blurt out: