PICTURE OF MACY ON THE SIDE
✔ mostly edited
Chapter 2: Visitors
Hours that day passed by in an excruciatingly slow pace, each minute taking an eternity. Albeit, I learned to enjoy these unenthusiastic moments. Nowadays, it was difficult to find the abundant free-time to revel in your own thoughts. And the ability felt like pure bliss.
"Hey, Charlotte," Maggie called, snapping me out of my reverie. I merely glanced at her, unable to stop my curious nature from prying.
"Which one looks best on my nails?" She inquired, carefully scrutinizing her options before her. There was a small variety, but after known her for many years, I was very aware that Maggie was absolutely horrid when coming to conclusions. "Blue, black, or red?"
"Black and red," I replied, keeping my answer clipped and concise. Though, a wave of mischief washed over me, drowning and robbing me of all inhibitions. And I couldn't stop myself from blurting the words. They spewed out like blood of a newborn wound.
"After all, those colors bring out the evil in you."
She laughed at that, her cackle filled with such a coldness I felt a shiver down my spine. Thus far, I knew two sides of Maggie that existed. The one that had shown me no mercy when it came to the approval of others. And the genuine, caring one who'd stand up for those she befriended.
The latter side of her was something I had only heard of from the girls. For as long as I could remember, there was an unspoken line drawn between Maggie and me. It kept us apart, but when either of us threatened to stroll into the other's territory, hell would be set loose. We couldn't hide in our shells from the inevitable, we simply had to endure the consequences.
And that was exactly what I had done. I'd strode into Maggie's territory as an uninvited.
"What are you trying to do exactly? Initiate a fight? Prove a point?" She asked mockingly, her tone harsh and vehement. She stepped closer to my bed, where I had been at the moment. That was when she clasped onto the collar of my shirt, bringing me up to my feet in a definitive hastiness that made me shudder.
I quickly gripped the rim of my hood, in worries that it might fall off due to the unexpected impact. Though, she barely noticed the imperceptible movement, too blinded by the raw anger that seemed to consume her whole. Maggie was merciless and relentless and cold-hearted. It scared me sometimes, knowing that people as empty and ruthless as her existed.
"I wouldn't if I were you." She wasn't looking at me. Instead, she kept her gaze focused on a particularly rusted corner of the room behind me. "I have friends that would gladly have my back as I have theirs. But you see, you don't. You're nothing when you don't have people to support you. And because of that, we all know who would win a fight."
It was then that I finally acknowledged the irony in our current situation. Maggie had been so wrong, so stupidly wrong, but I had no way to prove it to her. Having my identity revealed was my kryptonite, a weakness that could put me in turmoil for the rest of eternity.
There was no possible way to assuage the vexation that surged through me with her words. Once the barriers - I had conjured up to protect me - were destroyed, guard let down, I was terrified of the aftermath. For I would lose myself to the monsters of society.