Don't Judge Me (Being Edited)

32_ Disappointment

I didn’t go to school if that’s what you’re thinking.

I couldn’t bear to do that.

What would be waiting for me there?

Work? Girls? Questions? Gossip? Bitches. Amber Milton.

And many more things that would remind me of Callum. Not that it would make much of a difference. Everything reminded me of Callum.

Not going to school just meant that I wouldn’t have endless pity/judging when I’d start crying, as I was doing in the segment of my life I’m narrating right now.

I’d run away from Callum- as I guess you already know since you’ve obviously read this far (unless you decided to flip through this book willy-nilly, then shame on you!)- and didn't really know where it was I was going.

At first I just started walking, and I almost did find myself at school again: that was the route my body took naturally. And for a second I did entertain the thought of going to school, then the practical side of me reminded myself that not only was I not wearing school uniform but half of the clothing I had on belonged to a boy (thank god I had bought clothing to Callum’s because there was no way I was surviving in boxers for another day, and Callum, bless him, had remembered to get me a bra!)- so going to school was out. Plus, I didn’t have any equipment or excuses to make my being late justifiable.

And that is how I found my wandering self in the park outside my school imagining that the climbing frame was my cage and that I was a trapped crying animal. This, in a literal sense, was completely true. So no stretch of the imagination is needed for that one, guys.

But I digress; this positioning was also how Lucas Jordan found me: crying in a climbing frame like a little, trapped animal.

Not to make myself sound pitiful or anything. I don’t need a metaphor’s help with that.

“Shit, Anne.” Luke said upon arrival. He then aptly began up the slide and squeezed into my tight cage.

I then began sobbing into him.

I couldn’t tell him what I was crying about, even though I wanted to with every fibre of my being. I wanted to be able to tell him, I wanted to be able to tell myself.

But I couldn’t.

Everything was a blur of red and heat and hate and blood, blood on his chin, a scar on my forehead, being in my bed, touching his body, wanting him there, wanting to have never known him, and missing Luke, missing him so much. Too much.

And tears. So many tears. Tears that were torn from my body in constant spasms.

And wanting no more. Wanting everything to stop. Wanting to stop myself from ever beginning. Wanting the end then and there. Being fed up with pain. And wanting… and wanting…

I was actually too scared to admit what I really wanted. Actually, I still am.

So yeah, I was crying.

And Luke just held me.

“It’s ok, Antonia. I’ve got you. I’m here for you.”

I sniffled, really trying to calm myself down for the boy that was here for me.

“I’m always here. I’ll always be here.”

I moaned and shook my head removing myself from his arms. “No you’re not.”

I looked up at his blue eyes. There were dark circles around them, and they themselves were red. It was a clear blue pool that had been tainted by blood.