The next morning, I wake up bright-eyed, but definitely not bushy-tailed. My fur looks like a rat's nest, although at this point in my life, that's the least of my concerns. At least I don't have to worry about being late- I'm up at quarter of six even though my normal circadian rhythm has me up at half past six. Oh, well, I suppose, at least the rest of my half night's worth of rest.
Fifteen minutes may not be much, really, but when I've felt like crap for so long and when quite literally every second of good rest counts, every single freaking second, well then it's gonna mean trouble... and then when you tack on the little bit of lost sleep, yeah, that's gonna bite me in the ass later...
Eh, I have plenty of scars at this point, what's the point of trying to avoid adding more in the end? Why the hell not?
But anyways, if I'm completely out of it today, well then I'm gonna know exactly why. Am I going to hate myself for letting myself do it, well then I don't know...
What I do know is that it's gonna be a long day at this rate.... And I'm heading back to dear ol' Fundy High today, and I would have liked to have been able to get enough sleep, but I sure as hell didn't and so here we are!
Oh, well, I suppose. Better that I'm up and neat and tidy on my first day back to school in an ungodly long stretch of time. I yank the covers off and pull myself out of bed, paw instinctively slapping over my mouth as it opens in a yawn. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I snag my glasses off of the top of my dresser and slip them on, feeling grateful to whoever discovered how to grind glass into lenses that the world comes into sharper focus.
It feels weird being the kind of person I am, the kind of mammal, and yet ending up wearing glasses, wow you must be a horrible predator if you can't see...
Okay, there's a bit to unpack there, a, this is the twenty-first century, we don't eat each other, two, I'm letting it all get to me when it's my own freaking mind, how messed up do I have to be for that to happen?
Apparently very, but like usual, I'm getting off track.
After that, I get up and try to make myself look as presentable as I need to be, shivering as a sudden cold gust comes in through the open door. Ah, well, as Mom always used to tell me, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I sure don't think in the slightest that a cold breeze is going to do me in... at least I hope it won't, but just to err on the side of caution, I root through my dresser until I find the combination of top and pants that fit my mood I'd love to slip some shorts on, but come on, it's not even really spring here yet in Lepreau, they can wait. I may still have my winter coat of fur, but yeah, not gonna risk it. Slipping those on, I head downstairs towards the kitchen, my growling stomach leading me to gravitate towards the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the house from the kitchen.
Mom hears me coming and calls out for me- "Morning, Electra. Did you manage to get back to sleep after what happened last night?"
"I did, actually," I say, my lips parting in the barest hint of a smile. "Thanks for asking. What about you?"
"I did alright, I guess. I tossed and turned for a little bit, but I managed." She holds out a frying pan towards me. "You hungry? I was just cooking up something for breakfast."
"Yeah, I am, actually," I say, and my stomach decides to add a loud growl to back me up. "Huh, like I was saying..." At that, a thought pops into my head; I can't remember how much I ate yesterday, or even if I really ate anything.... Maybe that's why I've felt so much like crap the last few days- and even if that's not everything, it's surely not helping.
Mom laughs. "I can see that, Electra. "Here," she says, opening up the cupboard that's next to the stove, where we keep all of our plates, and snags one out for me. "I hope you brought your appetite with you. Are you looking forward to your first day back to school?"
She doesn't want an honest answer, I feel, she wants to hear what she wants to hear, which is that she can finally get her paranoid mental wreck of a daughter out of the house, and the sooner the better so that way her husband doesn't beat the hell out of her whenever (and really, if) he ever shows back up.
"I really don't know, Mom, I haven't been there in what feels like forever, I'm afraid of what they're going to say about me, because I know that they're going to be whispering something, they just won't be able to resist, but at the same time, Mom, I've been meaning to say this for forever?"
"What's that?" she asks.
"I really don't care anymore, alright? And I get it, it's so close to the end and graduation and everything, why not just keep on powering through? Because I just- I can't do it... my mind is gone, and I don't know where it is... They can say what they want, and it's going to hurt, but I'm just going to need to keep on trucking through the day, and in the end, all of those words that they say are just words. They mean nothing, and they change nothing, especially not for the better, hell no... Before you say anything, by the way, yes I know that they all mean well, but gosh darn it.... I'm still scared, Mom."
I feel like a little pup again, having to say that to her, especially when I know that she's, well, she's not usually there for me when I really well and truly need her to be.
"I can appreciate that, hun," she says, smiling, and then smiling sadly at me (great what did I do wrong now Mom?). "Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?"
"I mean, then it's a good thing I can swallow, right?" I crack, and Mom doubles over, laughing.
"That's certainly a good way to look at it, Electra," Mom says, still chuckling while setting the pan that she snags off the stovetop on a trivet on the table. "Have as much of that as you want, I certainly wasn't cooking any for me."
Noticing my confused expression, she smiles, giving a small laugh. "Yes, I'm serious, Electra. I thought that you might appreciate having a hot meal on your first day back, you know?"
"I do," I say, smiling. "Thanks a lot, Mom. You have no idea how much this means to me right now."
"I take it that you're nervous?" she asks. "Are you sure you're going to be able to get all the way through the day, Electra? You know you can call me any time and I'll come get you, right?"
What, and get made the laughing stock of the school yet again? Fuck no, pass, thanks, I'll suffer whatever the hell I have to suffer through so that I can make it through my day-
-but that's not what comes out of my mouth. Instead, it sounds a little more like this:
"Yes, Mom," I say, taking a bite of the bacon and eggs that are sitting in front of me and making my mouth water as if I'm a starved dog that hasn't eaten in two days. I can't let myself look like a fool, though, not even in from of my mom! That's the worst kind or embarrassment of them all!
I know that today is going to be a good day, I tell myself, hoping that I'll have the intestinal fortitude to make that far-fetched hope happen at any time within the next twenty-four hours of my life.
I finish up my breakfast, taking my damn good time so that I can be sure that I'm not stressed. After that, I clear up my place, put the garbage where it needs to go, dump the food scraps into the pail that'll go out to the barn as slop for the chickens, and dive into the bathroom to take a shower before I get ready for the day.
I take my clothes off, chastising myself for not thinking about taking a shower, 'cause even if I might not care about it, if I don't take one, I know that, for a fact, others will.
With that in mind I shut the door behind me and place everything on top of the toilet tank, making sure to swing open the towel cabinet and snag a fresh one off of the bottom shelf. Ooh, it looks like Mom ran a load of laundry this morning before I woke up, 'cause the towels are warm. I place that on top of my heap of clothes and step into the tub and decide that I'd really just like to soak for a little bit.
With that, I turn on the tap and let the water run in- nice and warm, just how I like it, but not too warm, and just for good measure, I add a little bubble bath. Yeah, I might be nearly an adult, but cares? I am who I am, you know? Sometimes I just need to let myself pretend that I'm still a kid, and god only knows how many fucking times I've acted like I was nine instead of nearly nineteen. Oh, well, I suppose. The past is in the past, as Elsa put it so well, and I need to learn to let things go. Of course, it's going to be insanely difficult, as anyone who knows me can attest, I have a very hard time letting things go, but there's no way in hell that reconciliation is ever going to happen if I just sit here in the tub and grumble and gripe about what the world has done to me. Yeah, I'm going to have to move my lazy ass and get up out of the tub here, as much as I don't want to.
I push myself up to a standing position, and shut the water off, feeling somewhat thankful that the warm air from inside the tub's stall has warmed the rest of the room, because I hate, hate, hate stepping out of the tub into cold air. It makes me feel things that I'd really rather not, and let's just leave it at that.
Oh, great, I just realized how that probably sounds, and oh my God, no that's not what I meant, get your heads out of the gutter. Or rather., I should probably get my own head out of the gutter. No, what I was trying to say was that my body doesn't hold heat well- I used to run for the track team, and I had to be skinny for that, and I've never really gained that weight back.
So, what I was trying to say, before my sensibilities so rudely interrupted, was that because I'm so lean, I don't have any blubber to keep me warm, and so stepping into a cold bathroom while soaking wet is horrible torture, but what's that going to matter in the end? I have to get ready for school, and I keep managing to get myself off track, which really tees me off.
I dry myself down and chuck the towel into the hamper and dress myself back up. It's then that I notice just how tired I look- there are bags under my eyes and the skin right above the bags is the unsightly purple of a bruised plum.... And maybe only I can see it through my fur, but it's there, that's for sure. How to deal with it, now that's the question...
I'm not quite sure about that one, actually, but seeing as I want to be ready on time, and I get the feeling that I'm running behind, I'm going to go with the no makeup, no brushed fur option. I brush my hair back into a fox-tail (why the heck are they called ponytails, anyways? Ours are nicer... for freak's sake) and brush my teeth and spit, hating the sour taste that the combination of breakfast and baking soda creates in my mouth.
I cup my hands below the faucet and drink my fill, rubbing my hands on my pants when I'm done. I head back out into the kitchen, and I notice that it's nearly quarter after seven, which means that the bus is going to come in just under ten minutes. Shit! Luckily for me, though, Mom seems to have everything under control, which, for me, is a godsend, because I sure as fucking hell do not have everything under control.
Mom notices my panic and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Electra," she says, her voice soft and calming, reassuring my shaken nerves. "It's going to be okay, you know."
"I know, Mom," I say, sighing, "but I can't quite convince myself of that yet. I'm afraid, you know?"
"I do, Electra, I do," she says, draping her arm around my shoulders and giving me a soft peck on the cheek. "I see you've decided to go au naturel today, eh?"
"Yeah, I did, but oh my gods not like you're thinking...," I say, smiling for the first time in way, way, way too long. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Mom, what are you, twelve?"
I'm smiling despite myself, I hope she can tell I'm joking.... I think she can.
"Well, we have fur, so if you wanna-," she starts, only for me to cut her off.
"How about no, I just figured 'what the hell,' you know? They're probably going to say all kinds of nasty shit about me at school, both where I can hear them plus behind my back, and I'm just going to have to face the music, you know? Even if that music happens to be the Imperial March out of Star Wars, I'm going to have to face their lies and hatred with my head held high." I sigh. "I'm not kidding anyone though, I know that... fuck, this sucks..."
"But at least you can swallow?" Mom asks, and yeah, it's my joke, but-
"Mom it's funny when I say it, but if you try, it's not funny, it's actually kinda creepy. You know, I'm not really capable of doing that, all that well, either sucking, swallowing, or sticking up for myself, the last of which is what I really need to be doing..."
"Hey, you'll get there eventually, it just takes practice," Mom says, trying to keep the smile on my face.
"See that's just it," I say, "I'm the most sensitive person that this world has ever seen. They're going to have a field day with me, and I get a sinking feeling right in the pit of my gut that I can pretty much guess what they're going to say about me once I go back to that place where one's emotions are stuffed into a shredder... You know just about as well as anybody, Mom, that Electra Stehlen doesn't stick up for herself, she runs away like the coward that she is... gods, I'm such a fucking pansy..."
"I can appreciate that feeling, Electra, but first things first, no, you're not... but while I might not have been in the same shoes that you are-"
You know I'm never gonna get that-
"I can still help look out for you, especially when you can't look out for yourself," Mom says, reaching out to hand me a brown paper bag. "Which," she continues, "is exactly why I packed you a lunch... Yes I know you usually buy . I thought I should help you take a little stress off, and besides, you look like you're going to need all the help you can get today."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, my tone hard as steel, though Mom's dealt with me dishing her out enough sarcastic remarks in the time that I've been alive that she's learned my habits, especially when I'm nervous. I tend to play my feelings off by being sarcastic to everyone that I run across, but I'm trying to teach my mind not to act like that anymore.
Instead of addressing what's bothering me (believe me I want to, but anxiety... hell I hate it), I look out the side window by the table- it's a robin's egg blue morning, perfect in my mind, but it'll be ruined pretty soon if I can't manage to stop getting myself distracted by every single little thing and keep my mind on the task at hand. As much as I really don't want to go, I really need to get my ass going.
I give Mom a quick smile to (hopefully) restate that I was just being foolish, and head out to the living room to grab my backpack. I unzip the center pouch and stuff the small brown bag in as far as it will go. I don't give a damn about whether it gets crushed, and besides that, I don't have any more damns to give anymore, I'm pretty sure that the devil has decided to keep all of my extras so that way he'll have enough when he comes to get me in however long that will be, enough to damn me for not doing enough to help anyone...
I just love this cycle that I let run in my head. I have a damn hamster wheel for a brain and Satan keeps spinning the fucking thing around, pozdil this sucks.
Huh, yep, that's how I know I'm really pissed, when the Matlistokan slang Mom taught me starts slipping into my English.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts as hard as I can and not have it come loose at the seams, I zip up the top pouch, calling out to Mom before I go out to the bus, I think it's going to be time for me to be out there by now.
Just then, I hear a loud honk!-honk! from out front, and what do you know, I'm going to need to run! I sprint the hundred-odd feet from the back door as quickly as my dejected self can manage.. As I haul my frazzled body and even more frazzled mind up the steps, I notice that the bus driver (along with every other twerp on the bus) is staring at me. Feeling self-conscious, I ask "What is it?" Almost instantly, one of the kids on the back of the bus decides to pipe up.
"We've been wondering where you were, Wilde. Couldn't run away from the dogs forever, could you, foxy?" At that, I feel a sharp spike of anger rise up in me. I stand up to give the jackass a piece of my mind, but Mr. Winston, the bus driver, puts his calloused hand on my shoulder to stop me.
"Sit down, Electra," he says, in a tone that implies that resistance is futile. "We need to keep going, or the administration will have my ass for not bringing everyone in on time."
"Yes, sir," I mumble, my ears and cheeks burning red-hot in either embarrassment or shame, maybe even a little bit of both, and a whole heaping shit-ton of fury towards that prick. I can guarantee one hundred and fifty percent that he has no idea what I've been through. In his mind, I'm willing to wager quite a large chunk of change, I'm the slut that got his friends killed and then ran away after instead of facing the music like she should have.
Well, if this short moment here is going to serve as an indication of how the rest of the day is going to go on for me, well then I'm absolutely, completely, royally fucked. Apparently, all of the people who don't give a fuck?
Today I know that he's going to be hoping that I fall for his trap and bite, but there's absolutely no way that I'm going to bite. I have bigger fish to fry, and that school of piranhas will be coming at me full steam ahead by the end of the day.
"What, foxy, are you scared?" I hear the kid catcall me again, but I say nothing, and so he keeps at it, "What, you scared, slut? Afraid your little bitch won't be there to screw around with you after school? That's right, I heard why that psycho bitch went after you last month, whore." When I say nothing, as I'm fighting my hardest to keep my internal torment of emotions from tearing away with me, he keeps at it, and I keep ignoring, although I can't help but wonder why Mister Winston is letting these sorts of wild accusations fly on his beloved bus Number 122, but he is... yeah, I get it, he doesn't like me and this is his easy way of shoving it all in my face. I can see him looking through his sunglasses in the security mirror that's bolted firmly to the inside of the bus just above the windshield, and I hate the man.... well , more than I already did.
Ten minutes later, when the bus creaks on into the school parking lot on the back side of the building, hydraulic brakes groaning in agony, I've heard more catcalls and curse words thrown in my general direction than somebody who actually sleeps around, and, although my face is placid, the skin underneath it is a pale shade of whitish-grey typically reserved for corpses. I've been fighting to hold the tears and retorts at bay and I've also been wishing that I could just curl up and hide, like the kicked dog I am. I want to fight back, fight those assholes, get right into a huge fucking brawl and show them that I can take them all, and take them all well, and take them all at once...
I have to fight myself back more times than I can even count, and with those thoughts in mind, I stumble blindly, deafly, and completely unfeeling into the hallway. Fundy High School isn't very large, I know this building like the back of my paw, and I use that mental map to guide me to a place where I know that I'll be safe, or at least, so I hope. I can just cross my fingers and pray to whatever God might be up there listening that they can grant me safe passage into the building and to the left down the main hallway, then down the next right into the arts department, also home to the teachers' lounge. Although the tiny little room is supposedly off-limits to any student, that rule hasn't ever been enforced by any member of either the faculty, staff, or administration.
Usually, considering that it's roughly ten minutes before the monotone of the 8:03 first period bell, I can find one of my favorite teachers, the art director, another Jerenteka like me, Ms. Arabela, standing by the water cooler sipping on a glass, and that same luck extends out to me this morning as well.
"Hey, Ms. A," I call out to her as I step in through the door frame. "How was your month without me?"
"It was fine, Electra, but I'm going to give you fair warning ahead of time, because if you haven't already been dropped into the deep end of this sticky tar pit, I can guarantee that they're going to be dragging you down on in deep and hot and fast real soon, my dear. Let's just say this, Electra, the rumors that I've been hearing floating around these halls over the course of the last several weeks, well, they haven't been pretty."
"That bad, eh?"
"Well, imagine the worst things that you think that they could say about you, and make it worse than that.... No, Electra," she continues, "they've been pretty damn obscene, and I'm not at liberty to repeat what they said, because I still don't have tenure here-"
"Which is a fucking travesty and I'll take it up with them as soon as I can," I interrupt her, which despite my having been rude again accidentally, brings a small smile to her lips.
"To finish what I was going to say though, Electra, I've heard things getting said about you that don't ever bear repeating and if anyone on the administrative staff were to overhear me repeating to you what they said, then I'd be on my way out the door with all my belongings in a crate, never to return or to be seen or ever heard from again."
"Okay wow, I knew they didn't like me, but how bad was it, I promise that I'm not going to repeat it... how bad?" I ask, my spirits dropping impossibly lower than they were just a split second earlier. "You can tell me, I promise I'll never repeat what you say to anyone else. Scout's honor," I say, holding my hand up in the three-fingered salute of the Boy Scouts, but of course, for me, it looks ridiculous. I'm a girl, and they don't let girls in the Boy Scouts yet.
"The most that I'm going to say," she says, "and as I said, I'm not really at liberty to say, unless you like the idea of me losing my job..."
"No! NO, that's not it at all!" It's then that I notice that she's clamped her paws over her ears, and she's looking at me as if she's hoping I don't come at her. "Sorry, Ms. A," I say in a lower tone of voice. Did I- aw shit I was shouting, wasn't I? I'm sorry..."
Prying her hands off of her ears, she gives me her response. "Yeah, you were shouting, but I'm okay, I promise. You didn't hurt me.... Just my hearing, that'll be fine..."
Okay yeah, you don't have to keep playing nice, I'm not gonna snap at you, alright?
She chuckles nervously, one hand behind her head. "So, how was your time off?"
Sigh...no point in making myself look like an ever bigger ass...
"Fine, Ms. A, just jim dandy," I snark. "Do you happen to know where I can find myself a safe space to hide for the rest of the day? If the kids have been whispering about me that much, well, I don't want to have to deal with it, you know?"
"Gods, I didn't even think about that, but you can stay here, if you'd like," Ms. A says, offering me a weak smile. This whole thing's rattled her good and well too, if I'm reading her right... and for once I feel like I am.
"I've already had to put up with enough tomfuckery this morning from the assholes on the bus, and well, I'm sure you get the rest...." I turn on my pleading face, hoping that will change her mind, but nope, that doesn't happen, good.
"Hmm, yeah, I do...," she says, pausing. "You really don't want to know..."
"You can tell me," she says, "but this feels like your story, I'm not going to guess...," she says. Sighing, she puts her paw on my shoulder, meaning to be reassuring, that I can guarantee, but instead it just pisses me off. I'm sick of people trying to pretend that it's all going to be alright, but what's even worse is when somebody pretends that I did nothing wrong, and I'm really starting to feel like that right now. Of course, I know that Ms. Arabela isn't the kind of person who would do that to me, and that just makes things worse.
Taking as deep of a breath as I can manage before my lungs burst, I let it out through my nose, willing myself to stay calm. Yes, Electra,my mind says, I know that your emotions are running sky-high right about now, but you need to rein yourself back in. You can't just go around blowing up on people because they unintentionally slight you. I would hope that you know that after eighteen years, right?
Right.
"Sorry," I say, looking down at the cracked tile floor beneath my feet. "I know it probably looks like I've gotten a wonderful, though admittedly awfully-earned vacation, but it's been no party..."
"I'd imagine not," Ms A. says, her look showing me more sympathy than anyone else has bothered to give me.... I'm really glad that she let me say what I did; that she didn't just shut me down, because anything that I can say to get this weight off of my chest is going to be much appreciated... and that's what I tell her.
"You're welcome, Electra, and please, call me Jet. You've earned it, and hell, I mean, that's my name, but if you don't feel comfortable doing that, I get it... If you ever need anyone to talk with you, well, I get the feeling that you already know, but my door's always open. Feel free to come in to talk, I'm usually not too busy, seeing as almost every student will, when they get the choice their ninth grade year, choose music over art. I mean, music is nice and silence is nice, but it gets so boring So yeah, feel free to drop in at any time. No offense meant, but I think you're going to need it today, Electra."
"Yeah, I hate to say it, but I agree with you there, Ms. Arabela- sorry, Jet, gotta go."
"See you later, Electra," she calls after me as I take off, realizing that I'm going to need to run to class, or Mrs. Markutz will have my fuzzy hide drying in the rack in her office before the end of the period. Yeah, I like my skin attached to me, so I'm so going to need to run to get there! Crap, crap, crap, I'm screwed! I feel that hot tide rising up in me again, the angry wave of anxiety threatening to spill over.
The rest of the day grinds on, and by the time the next morning rolls around, I'm fried... even more than I was before... this just isn't pleasant, but hey, what can you do, snap?
"Morning Electra," she waves after me, gesturing to the empty classroom. "Class is about to start, but um, like usual, you're the only one here, so... look Electra, I'm worried about you, alright? I don't want you to self-destruct. I've been there, I've nearly done that," she says, pushing up her sleeves, and even though I know what I think I'm going to see, nothing ever really prepares you. I used to see those kinds of things on Lylah, all over the place... but nothing, nothing prepares you, and I feel my heart drop and my breath catch in my throat.
There are little white lines, thin ones, as thin as the edge of a knife, splicing her black fur into patches that look and feel like they're coming from a ragged quilt.
"You know what they are, right?"
"Sure do," I say, breath still catching and just then, the monotone boop that signals the start of first period interrupts our conversation, and the girl who reads the announcements, Judy, I think her name is, begins to sing O Canada, just like she's done every school morning for the last six years, and just like I've done every morning that I've been in school for the last twelve, I stand silent. I have absolutely no damn clue why we're supposed to pledge our loyalties to a country that claims that it supports and defends "liberty and justice for all," but how is there either liberty or justice in a country that can't seem to understand how to give and defend either, when it keeps making us face so much shit.
"I'd try to talk through this, but-"
"Don't worry about it, take a few deep breaths while you're waiting
After that, there come several minutes of announcements, all of which I tune out, I have more important things on my mind, like my own sanity, like all the voices in my head. I really don't care what they have to say, but what I do care about is getting my own true voice through them. I need to calm down, relax, that way I can have this period to talk with Jet (yeah, this is going to be a while) about what I'll need to do to catch up on the month's worth of sketchbook assignments and various other projects that I'm sure that I'm going to need to get done as fast as I can, because as best as I can guess, it's going to be coming damn near to the end of the third marking quarter, and I'm already juggling insane course loads in every other subject, plus the fact that none of my teachers was smart enough to send any work home with anyone so that way I could send it back in.
Ugh, no, I really shouldn't be that critical of them, I hope it's a better reason than just that they felt bad for me, I'm no weakling. I may have been shot, but come on, people, I've never been what anyone could describe as a weakling by any stretch of the imagination, except for where I am, and that's when I keep ragging on myself over and over and over again in my head. I would say that if there were to ever be a World Series of Nagging created, I would sweep every year. But here's hoping it'll all change for the better, seeing as I'm the only one in this art class, so I figure why wait until next period to tell my teacher about what happened when I was out, I mean, it's only six minutes after eight, and seeing how first period class goes until quarter of nine, I'll have more than enough time to talk with her about my extended leave of absence.
"Well, Electra," Ms. A says, how was your time off?" she asks, the clicking of the receiver telling us both that we don't have to put up with our peace being interrupted any longer... I just need to get all of this out, and this wolf is the only person to whom I know I can go without being mocked or scorned and derided...
Is it too much to ask for a little bit of peace right now.
"It was okay, Jet," I sigh. "I realize that I probably seem a little bit better off now than I ever have... I mean, a little more in control of myself, but let me tell you, if there's one thing I've learned from this insane mess, other than how much pieces of lead hurt when they burrow through you, it's that appearances can be deceiving.... No, scratch that, they can be worse than deceiving, they can be deadly, and I think that I would be a bit of an expert on that subject, would you say? I mean, I've definitely let my own looks be deceiving, that's for sure... oh poorme, poor me, wow I got shot, big fucking deal, grow up Electra, you're an adult."
She laughs slightly, and this time, I don't feel offended. "I can, and I most certainly do, Electra.... But it's not a weakness to feel pain, it's not a weakness to feel betrayed, it certainly isn't a weakness to feel anger when the rest of the school keeps whispering and yammering about who you do in your free time, alright? And it's not a weakness to not have healed yet, alright? Those muscle tears, they can't just be magicked back together..."
"Celestials above I wish they could be," I mutter. "It fucking hurts to breathe all the time, shit... I know you're probably thinking I asked for it, but I swear to the Celestials above that I didn't... I had even less of an idea of what was happening, what was going on, than anyone here did... and you know what, that makes me even sadder, I should have known, I should have been able to see it coming... I felt like I knew her even better than I knew myself and yet I still- still didn't feel like I could have predicted what was happening. Everything was normal and then some bastard had to go and take Lylah away from herself... what kind of a sick fuck does a person have to be to do that to a woman?
Especially when she didn't do anything wrong... what did she do wrong, you sick fuck, whoever you were- are-
What happened between you and Lylah, anyways?" Ms. Arabela- Jet, for freak's sake Electra, she was just telling you that you can call her that, so be a good wolf and do it!
"Promise you won't tell anyone else about what I tell you?" I ask, crossing my fingers and praying to that someone up there that they're listening.
"Yes, Electra, I promise you that I won't say a word to anyone else. Not a single other person, not a single other word."
"Thank you... um does that include us Jerentnekai? I mean, yeah, we're people, but-"
"I get what you mean, Electra, and yes I do..."
"Alright," I sigh, trying to let myself relax even just a little bit and hating that I'm struggling to even do that. "Where do you want me to start? There's a shit-ton of stories to tell, and they ain't gonna be pretty."
"Well, how about your experiences that day? Those seem to be the things that are truly eating at you, Electra, so why not start there?"
"Well," I say, "and I realize that I'm going to sound like a cliche here, which I hate, yet at the same time can't be helped in the slightest, but that day was a normal day, one just like every other that had come before it. But-" I say, holding my hands down in front of me in a stop whatever you're doing and listen gesture, "after that, no day would be normal. "I had no idea what Lylah had had all cooked up and ready to serve, and I have even less of an idea of how in the world she managed to get the gun and all the ammo into the building without having set off the metal detectors. But I'm getting off track.
"Anyways, as I was saying, that day didn't seem to be unusual in any way, and it was the one day of school that I had actually been looking forward to after having to slog through a week and a half's worth of final papers, exams, and all that jazz... You know, it was gonna be a day where I would be able to just sit down and relax and relish in the peace and quiet of having no one else around me in the auditorium, but noooo, that wasn't going to happen, as we now all know, but you know what was going to happen? Lylah was going to spring up out from behind the curtain on stage, ready to wreak havoc and quite a number of bloodstains upon the upholstery. But that wasn't really the roughest part about the whole thing. No, getting shot was the relatively easy part.... And that hurt like a bitch, so you can imagine the rest," I grumble.
"Now, before I say anything else, can I please close the door?" I ask, knowing that I sound like I'm pleading, and honestly, I don't give a single shit at this point. I mean, I don't want a word of what I'm going to say next catching the breeze, seeing how you can't keep a single secret from any single person in this damn building, but it needs to get off my mind... so here's hoping that I can keep the first secret that's ever been heard of in this building, eh?
"Sure, Electra," Jet says. "But let me take care of the door, just wait here, okay?" With that, she takes her ring of keys out of the left pocket of her pants and locks and closes the door to the room behind her. She heads back to her desk, and her eyes look so heavy, and then, almost like I've jinxed it, she starts to and drops her head to the desk. I wonder what's up with her. I haven't ever seen her quite this tired...
Sleeping on the job, she's gonna get fired...
"Are you okay there? You don't look too hot...Should I get you anything? A glass of water, anything?"
"No, Electra," she sighs. "I don't need a glass of water. I'm just worn beyond the point of exhaustion is all. You know that point that you get to when you haven't slept in weeks because your school got shot to shit and your nerves are permanently fried and so you just keep on smiling and hoping that nobody picks up on it and that you're dead inside?"
"Uh, yeah, that's literally been my life too... ever since ... every day since the incident...," I mutter, my hindpaws suddenly looking interesting, and huh, that spot of wax on the floor looks really interesting, it's kinda shiny oh cool!
"Electra, just a fair warning, history likes to repeat itself...," she says, voice shaking, and I can feel myself trembling. Is she losing it? Do I need to run or something? What's gonna happen to me?
"Why do you say that, Ms. A?"
By way of an answer, she turns to face me full-on, emerald-green eyes drilling into the backs of mine, an almost manic energy overtaking them. Then she sighs, and that light dwindles away until I'm left looking at the tired husk of someone who has just had enough after all of their life has passed them by and they're left watching that train leave dust clouds down the broken road of their hopes and dreams.
"I'm telling you, it's gonna happen again... I don't know how.... I don't know when. Just a feeling, that's all," she says. "Just a feeling."
Wait, wait, wait, waitwaitwait. Hold up for just a cotton-pickin' minute. What the hell is that look supposed to mean? What the actual hell?
"You alright there?" I ask. "You don't look so hot."
"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, waving her paw at me. "It's just- I was telling you how history repeats itself?" she continues.
"Yeah, you were, so...?" I pry.
"Oh, nothing, Electra, it's just... well, it's just that I had the same sort of thing happen to me back when I went to school here."
Wait, what?