Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter nineteen | crash.

"We need to talk."

Jasper takes his hand off of my waist the second I turn around to look at him, our faces mere inches from each other.

His rosy lips are within kissing distance and his addicting cologne is filling the air around me.

My mind goes blank for a second, spitting out the only word possible.

"O—okay."

"Good. Meet me in the ensemble room after jazz."

He's gone almost as soon as he came, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with the ghost of his beautiful presence surrounding me.

Jesus. This guy.

I don't even see him glance back at me for the rest of the class period, and I'm not sure if that means he's really trying to get over me.

Maybe he's finally done trying to pursue me, finally realizing I'm not worth his time or heartache.

Bleeeeeeeeeeep

The bell sounds and I waste no time in getting out of Mr. Rohan's room.

Being around Jasper makes me feel guilty. I feel so horrible about everything, but if I get too close to him, he might find out some things about me and my past that aren't so pretty.

After all, I can only hurt him if he lets me.

I've managed to keep him from asking questions about my family and home life for the past year, and I'd like to keep things that way.

I leave the music theory room and start down the crowded hall towards stagecraft, although I stop in the bathroom to take a piss.

I do my business and stand back up to flush when I see the blood.

It's just like after Luis and Michael's fight when I found blood in my pee, only this time, it's more.

It's not just a light pinkish tint—it's full-on ruby red.

I feel dizzy and lose my breath for a moment, fear flooding through me like thousands of tiny thorns pricking at my skin.

I want to die, but not like this.

If I'm going to die, I'm going to die on my own terms.

Taking a deep breath, I lift up my shirt to examine my bruised ribs. Sure enough, the bruise is bigger than it was a couple of days ago.

Whatever it is, it's getting worse.

Bleeeeeeeeeeeep

The warning bell sounds and I pull my shirt down quickly, flushing the toilet and obliviously deciding to ignore whatever's going on inside of my body.

A part of me is worried, but at the same time, life holds no value to me anymore.

The stall door opens and I continue on my way as if everything's perfectly fine, although inside, my head feels like a church bell, my legs like limp noodles, and the world is slightly unbalanced.

"Hey, chica."

I plop my bag on the floor of the stagecraft room and hoist myself onto the lab stool, my chest alight with fire as I do so.

"Hi, Luis."

He hands me a roll of pins to start gluing onto pieces of yellow fabric.

"So Michael didn't kill me when he pulled me out of the lunchroom earlier."

"What'd he do?"

"Well." He pauses, looking up at me. "He basically told me I need to be there for Mary, and if I abandon her he'll murder me in cold, gay blood."