Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝People are screwed up in this world. I'd rather be with someone screwed up and open about it than somebody perfect and ready to explode❞
—It's Kind Of A Funny Story
🚗JAXON🚗
I'd die before I'd let a fucking pipsqueak of a person like Ziyan win against me. Neither of us remained on the floor for long. After pouncing on me like the pussy he is, Ziyan and I were swinging punches at each other and tumbling around.
A pungent metallic odor rang throughout the air, sobering me to the extent of this fight and making me want to slam my fist against his skull even harder.
He busted my lip, causing the raw flesh to feel loose against my teeth and tongue.
Scott appeared out of nowhere like a ghost, linking his arms around Ziyan's shoulders and yanking him off of me. Delilah came to my aid, helping me back on to my chair.
"He started it!" Ziyan declared. "He ran over my feet and gave me this fucking look—ugh. You weren't here!"
"I was trying to get across the room."
"Bullshit!"
"You read my actions wrong."
"You're a jealous motherfucker who can't handle the truth!" He shoved Scott off of him. "I hate how you're already picking sides and defending him."
"I didn't say anything. But...You know how much of a prick you look like for fighting a guy in a wheelchair?" Scott pointed out, but Ziyan only huffed, waving off the assumption that he as an evil guy for tussling around a disabled person.
Ziyan scoffed. "You're unbelievable."
"I don't care who started it. I'm the one that's ending it."
"So, you'll let him—"
"Let him what?" he cut in. "Don't make me shred up your lease."
"You can't say that!"
"The two names that matter the most are Brenda and I. And on the contract, you signed before moving in, it explicitly states that your lease can be terminated for particular reasons—in house fighting is one of them."
"I'm willing to squash this." I said.
"Okay, hug now. Hug it out and say sorry to each other."
"I'm not hugging anyone," Ziyan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You can't threaten something like that and expect me to be all peachy and shit."
"If that fight were to happen again—"
"It won't," I assured, being stilled at the sight of Salma walking up to the living room.
I felt ill internally, thinking about how she didn't tell me about her time with Ziyan. Ziyan of all people?
I wanted to gag.
***
Preferring baths over showers was a personal thing for me that predated the crash. Before that incident, I enjoyed bath's over anything else because of the silence. When I dunked my head underwater, holding my ears below and listening to the sounds inside the tub, the entire experience swallowed me whole. I felt so much smaller in that space. I felt, in a way, complete.
Salma made me feel that way, but differently. Her laugh poured on my wounds like honey, mending the burns and masking the bruises. She filled something inside of me that was indescribable...but now, knowing what I knew now, I couldn't enjoy my bath's anymore, and I couldn't enjoy listening to her chuckle. The joy had been killed for me.
Today was the day, I concluded, that I ended the sorrow.
I took my shower and pushed my body through the fabric of the towel. I wiped myself dry and used the chair inside the tub to help me get in a seated position. From there, the leaver hoisted me into my wheelchair, waiting for me at the side of the tub. Sharing a bath with Salma was a dream—but a dream that seemed tainted now in retrospect.
