Sculpt Me

Why did I do that?

Before yesterday, I would have been horrified if anyone had even suggested destroying a sculpture yet here I fucking am, about to smash my hands onto the still wet clay of an unimportant study I hadn't finished. I mashed my fingers into the delicate body of a person who was tilting their face up to the sky, like they wanted to taste the rain. My grin at the satisfaction scares me and I think to myself, have I finally gone insane?

The cool clay gets under my fingernails and for once it doesn't bother me. I plunged my knuckles into the stomach, caving in the ribs and hips. They were bent over and slowly falling forward. I pinched the arms and squeezed until they flattened. I was taking it out on the poor thing. It wasn't like it did a fucking thing to you August, you useless piece of shit. My fingers twisted into their arms and I almost felt the fragile bird bone snap under my grip. A dry sob crawled up into my throat and coughed out of my mouth. Footsteps echoed in the hall next to the art room I was in and my shoulders stiffened, making my hands clench automatically, squishing the clay person completly. I was about to slam my fists into the clay again to squish it more when I heard two voices outside the door.

"I thought you were still obsessing over Mr colour blind?"
"No. Well yes I am, but he has a boyfriend." Xavier and some unknown person. I sat up straighter to listen to what they were saying,
"But what are you going to do about that?" Yeah Xavi, what are you going to about it?
"I don't know, but I can't really make a move on him, can I? Not after yesterday." He sounded sad and it took everything in me not to go out and hug him.
"Mate, why don't you just leave it? I mean, August isn't the type of person to just break up with the lover they've been with for ages just because a new and more interesting guy enters the scene. Even if you get some type of reaction out of him, he won't leave Chas because he needs an anchor for his flighty and rash personality." I finally recognised the voice as Jonathan's, the guy with a cute, dark bowl cut and some kind of bright eyeliner who came over from the Philippines to enroll in out art school here in the land of the bad weather and tea. He was a pretty brave guy and was hardworking. After moving to England, he started up midterm work, in a university he'd just joined, with ease. I admired him a lot.

"Yeah, I know all that," Xavier said in an exasperated tone, "I'm not bloody stupid, it's just it makes me feel like a proper twat just waiting for him to realise what's going on behind his back. I mean, he's so oblivious that at this rate, I'll be standing around like a lemon til I'm fifty!" What's going on behind my back? The hell does he mean? I clenched my fists and furrowed my brow.
"I feel you, I'm still waiting for Valerie to go on a date with me. Anyway, go get your pencil case and hurry up otherwise we'll be late for textiles." Fuck! Shoot, er, where do I hide, in the cupboard? No, to far away. Under the table maybe.
I'm pretty sure my face was a 'screaming internally' as well as 'fuck please no' panicking face as I ducked under the table. The doorknob squeaked and twisted and a pair of long legs clad in straight denim jeans came into view.
"Oooh I wanna take you to a Jamaica, yeah." Xavier continued to hum quietly as he picked up his Capt. America pencil case. I covered my mouth with my hand and breathed slowly because even though Xav sometimes acted like he couldn't hear you, he could listen and pick up the slightest things. He told me once that he developed super human hearing from playing hide and seek with his brothers and sisters and trying to listen for their small giggles.

"Mate, I'll can walk to Trafalgar square faster than you can walk across that room. Would you hurry up." Jonathan banged the door and Xavier's legs sped up.
"Alright! Alright." Their footsteps and jibes faded away and I let out a huge breathe. Jesus christ, I don't know whether it was not breathing properly for a minute or two but my chest feelt like it was going to cave in on itself. I hauled myself up with my clay stained hands and sat up again on my stool. It wobbled slightly and made my feet slip off the feet rests slightly. I held onto the table tightly and breathed slowly. Reaching to brush a hand through my hair, wet clay stuck to my hair before I could realise and I scowled. Doesn't matter, there are bigger things in life than clay in my hair so I slowly let go of the table and started to mold the clay back into shape.