TWENTY ONE
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I leaned against the sink, bracing my hands on the edges. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I felt ready to collapse. I couldn't say why but I did. After several moments I shoved my hair back away from my face and turned on the cold water. I listened to the rush of water spiraling down the drain for seconds, maybe minutes. My mind wandered not really even going anywhere. Eventually, I splashed the water into my face, gasping at the shock of it against my heated skin. My eyes slid to the mirror, catching sight of my reflection. I inhaled sharply.
I didn't recognize the person staring back.
The person staring back at me was empty. Messed up. Fucked up. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at myself a second longer. I hated the sight of it. I didn't want to be this person. I wanted to blink and the girl I was—the girl I should be—would be staring back at me. But none of that happened. I opened my eyes, staring into the mirror. I brought my fingers to my face, hesitantly touching my face. My skin felt foreign, unnatural. I leaned closer to the mirror, examining myself. I pressed my fingers harder into my skin. I winced, noting the unmistakable pang of pain. And that was when I saw it.
I ripped my hand away. I looked down at my finger tips covered in blood. MY breathing picked up and I felt panic raise up inside me. My eyes shot back up to the mirror. My gaze instantly went to where my fingers had just been moments ago. Blood dotted my face, hardly noticeable. I touched it. My fingers barely grazed the skin when I felt the same shot of pain. I gasped, pulling my hands away again. More blood. I started to panic. I pawed at my face. I wanted the bleeding to stop. I pressed my hand into my face and cried out at the pain.
What was going on?
It was then that my eyes returned to the mirror, taking in my frenzied state. Everything looked the same, looked normal. My hair was messy and tangled. My clothes slightly wrinkled like I had slept in them. But there was blood. There was so much blood. I leaned in, my shaking hands bringing a cloth to my face. I paused. My eyes scoured my face and then I saw it. I watched in horror as the spot I had touched just moments ago started to melt. My skin slowly melted from my face, like peeling pain from a wall. I was hyperventilating now. I pressed the cloth to my face.
"No, no, no!" I cried. "No!"
But nothing helped. I stared helplessly as my flesh melted from the bone and then I felt myself slipping. It was almost like I was being pulled away. I was no longer a part of this scene. It was no longer happening to me. And then I was gasping, clutching the sheets in my hands. I blinked. I was in my room. I touched my face. I was fine, okay. I ran a hand over my face, feeling my sweaty skin. It was then that I became aware to the sound of my alarm screaming. I ripped it out of the wall, letting the silence swallow me. The dream. It was so real. It was so damn real. I fell back into my bed, letting the bed wrap around me. The feeling instantly brought a sense of comfort to me, but it didn't last long. My mind started to wander.
It had been five days. Five goddamn days. I couldn't take it. Wouldn't. I needed it. I knew what Parker had said. He never asked but I wanted to. I wanted to change. How could I not after what he had told me? I was the picture of everything he hated. Maybe I shouldn't care. Maybe I should just be happy with that and move on, but I can't. The thought that he may hate me, may think of me like he does his dad or mom—it kills me. So I had told him I wanted to be different. He said he would help me, support me. In that moment it had all seemed so simple. So damn easy, but now it felt anything but.
I pushed myself off of my bed, wincing when the sheets stuck to my sweaty skin. I padded across the floor and into my bathroom. I stripped down, slipping into the shower. I let the cold water run over my heated skin. It was a shock to my system, envigorating me, waking me up. I leaned against the shower wall, closing my eyes. I let the water run over me and over me. I don't know how long I stayed like that but finally I pulled myself out of the shower. I shoudl have been shivering but I wasn't. I dropped back down onto my bed. I sighed. I didn't want to do this. Especially not in the shape I was in. I was a fucking wreck. A mess. I looked at the clock and felt my insides lock up.
"Oh fuck," I breathed.
There was a lot to be said about me but never that I did anything with too much speed. I was slow. I moved with the pace of someone who didn't care or had all the time in the world. Usually, it was the earlier of the too. I was too high, too stoned, to give a shit. I moved almost as if I was in a daze, but today that wasn't the case. I leaped from the bed, discarding my towel. I threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top. I ran a brush through my wet hair but after a few seconds I gave up on that entirely. The only thing I did take time to do was my make up. I didn't care how late I was I could not go out without make up. I had standards. Once I finished I hurried out my room and to my car, grabbing a cardigan and my purse as I did. The air was just starting to get a chill now.
I slipped into my car, throwing it into reverse. As I pulled out of the drive way, gunning it down the street I thought of how pissed Jasmine was going to be at me. I shook my head. Yeah, definitely not a good day. I hadn't even manage a coffee. I flicked the radio on, wanting to drown out my thoughts. Only I was greeted with talk radio and not music. "Goddamn it!" I groaned as I punched the radio off. This was not panning out to be the best day. I only hoped Jasmine would have coffee for me when I arrived.
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"Put your name on your paper."
"I don't wanna," the kid said.
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. Why the hell did I sign up for this? I didn't even like kids. I tapped a manicured nail at the top of the paper. Tap, tap, tap. "Come on, put your name," I instructed again. I was amazed at my control. If this had been anyone else—anyone—I would have went off already. Despite how great I was being the kid wouldn't cut me slack. I watched as he crossed his arms over his little chest, shaking his head. You know how they do? They get all puffed up and pout. A felt a tinge of irritation at his. "Put your name." My words were tight and sharp. They could have cut they were so sharp, but this kid didn't seem to notice or care.
"I won't!" he said again.
He shook his head again and even stomped his foot for emphasis. That's it. I leaned in, menacingly. I had had enough of this little bastard. Every damn day he was busting my balls and I wasn't going to deal with it. Why couldn't I get to sing the alphabet song and eat gram crackers with the kindergartners like Jasmine? The kids eyes slid up to mine as I came closer. I snapped up his pencil, shoving it into his small chest. "Sign the fucking paper," I said lowly. My voice was pitched deeper and sounded dangerous to my ears. I watched as the kid took the pencil, bringing his hand down to the paper, writing his name. I sat back in my chair a smug smile playing across my lips. That's more like it.
Despite the way it might seem my attitude towards the kid had little to nothing to do with my terrible day or lack of drugs. It had more to do with the fact that I just don't like children. They were loud. They were rude. They tended to smell weird and act weird. I just all around found them distasteful. Sure, some where cute—especially the ones that didn't speak yet, but that wasn't enough to make me like them all. To me they were a miniature version of a human but just less intelligent. Maybe one day they would grow up and I'd like them better.
The moment with that one kid, whatever his name is, turned out to be the last sane moment of class. After they finished their worksheets they just went crazy.It was their "play time" which is just a nice way to say "tear everything the hell up time." They ran around the room screaming, pretending to be dinosaurs, and other silly shit. I dropped down in front of a table. It could hardly be called a table. It was the kids drawing tables. I took one of the blank pages off the table and started drawing on it with half eaten crayons.
"What're you doing'?"
"Drawing," I said.
I blocked out the kid, focusing on what I was doing. I brought the crayon back to the paper, pressing down when suddenly the paper was ripped out from underneath me. The crayon drug across the paper as it was ripped away, leaving a large blue mark. You've got to be kidding. I quickly reached out, snatching the paper out of the boy's hands. "Go to the corner," I said in monotone. I dropped the paper back onto the table, flipping it over. Now I had to start over. I couldn't wait until I finished all my hours. I was sick of this already.
"No," he said.
"Go. Now!"
I stood up, grabbing the kid's arm. I was going to lead him to the corner but he jerked out of my grasp. He threw himself under the table, refusing to get out. I sighed, dropping down onto my knee. How did this happen? Did parents just not raise their children nowadays? If I had a kid who acted like this I would make sure it never acted like that again. That's what my parents would have done and their parents before them. Rude, ridiculous behavior like this was not okay. "Come out!
This went on for sometime. I tried to coax him out from under the table but it wasn't happening. Even the teacher had taken notice and attempted to get him out but he clung to the underside, refusing to be moved. The other children gathered around, watching the little brat's show. As if the situation couldn't get anymore ridiculous one of the students separated out of the crowd and started kicking the other kid. I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. Give me strength.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up to find the teacher standing above me. She smiled lightly. I pushed off the floor. "Go ahead and leave for the day, Spencer. This is obviously becoming a much bigger problem, clearly out of the term tutoring I'd say," she told me with a shake of the head. She took my paper signing the full hour off for me. I thanked her, hefting my purse onto my shoulder. "See you tomorrow!" I hurried out of the classroom, instantly bumping into Jasmine.
"Where are you going?"
"Dismissed," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
I ran a hand over my hair, pushing it out of my face. I shifted on my feet, jerking a thumb towards the classroom. "This little bastard through a fit. Then another kid started kicking the shit out of him," I said with a sigh. Jasmines eyes widened at this. I would have laughed at her expression if it had been any other day. I didn't have much of a sense of humor today. Thinking this, I pulled a red bull out of my purse. I may be avoiding drugs but no one said shit about caffeine. I popped it open, taking a long swig. "You done? I'll walk back with you. If not I'm going to go ahead and book it back over."
Jasmine smiled at this. We hadn't spent much time we each other since our last talk. It had very little to do wit her. It had a lot to do with me. She was no stranger to me up and disappearing, but she still liked to see me. "Walk back with me. We haven't talked in forever, right? Let me just get my paper signed," she told me as she pulled her paper out of her pocket. She stepped backwards, still talking as she did. "Don't go anywhere. Got it?" I nodded, taking a spot up against the door. A few minutes later she popped out of the door again. "So what have you been doing?"
I shrugged. "The Kiln mostly."
"Is that all?" she saked me.
I pushed the front door open, stepping through it. "Not exactly. I have actually been spending time with Parker," I said as I held the door open for her. She stepped through. At my words she threw a look over her shoulder, her eyes wide and surprised. I rushed on so she couldn't jump to conclusions. Jasmine alwatys jumped to conclusions. "Now before you say anything it isn't like that. We—he is nice to talk to. He's so different, Jas. He likes art and not just like cartoons. You should see his work. It's amazing—light and dark. I can talk to him about things and he just gets it."
My eyes flicked over to Jasmine. I instantly regretted the decision. She was smiling like I had just told her she won the lottery. She squealed, poking me in the arm. "You like him!" she accused. I made a face, shoving her hand away. "You like him! You never like anyone. And he likes art. It's so cute! Do you guys paint together? Tell me you paint together!" She grabbed my wrist, jumping up and down a little. I glanced around, hoping that no one was around to see her act like an idiot. I pulled my wrist out of her grasp, running a hand down my face. It was a mistake saying anything.
"Oh god," I muttered as I let my hand drop away from my face. She was still beaming at me. "Stop. Stop that right now. It isn't like that. We are friends. If I liked him I would have done something about it by now. I don't wait around and you should know that better than anyone." I knew it was a lie. She knew it was a lie. The guys I really liked weren't ones I would drag upstairs with me. The guys I really liked were the ones I wanted to talk to. The guys I really liked were the ones I wouldn't take to bed. And Jasmine knew this. I couldn't admit this to her or myself though. I might think it but I refused to acknowledge it.
"You know it doesn't matter," she said.
I stumbled, thrown off. "What?"
"It doesn't matter. You aren't alone."
We were approaching the high school entrance of the school now. I slowed, not ready to go back yet. I needed to know what Jasmine meant. I thought I understood but I still wanted to hear her say it. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. "What are you talking about, Jas? I was never alone," I told her a little forcefully. If it bothered her she didn't give an indication. She rested her hand on my shoulder. Jasmine was the type of girl who was always ready to offer up a smile or a laugh, but this time she was serious. The only hint that she was still there was a slightly quirk to her lips but nothing else.
"You were always alone. You just didn't know."
She let her hand slid away from my shoulder, and then she was backing up. Her eyes didn't leave mine and I didn't look away. She smiled once more at me, a full smile now, before she spun around, disappearing into the school. I watched her go until I could no longer see her. I ran a hand through my hair, taking a deep breath. I let it out slowly. For a split second I thought about leaving. I thought about booking it left to my car and ditching school. But just as fast as the thought came it left. And then I followed her after her, for once not running away.
* * * AUTHOR'S NOTE * * *
I'm back!
I know it's been a while and I have been slowly writing this whenever I get the chance. This week has been a nightmare! The ACT is this Saturday and I am not feeling confident. I took a practice today and got the same score! It isn't bad but I still want higher. The good thing is a got a slightly higher school in math, which is a miracle! I hate the math! I also got my senior stuff today! The sweat pants are so damn comfortable! I could live in them, really but I wont. :) I also got a scholarship in the mail! So today wasn't all bad. Hopefully, once the ACT blows over I can get back to updating more regularly.
And a side note I started reading a book today, not on wattpad. But no less good. It's called Lovely, Dark, and Deep by Amy McNamara. It's got really beautiful writing. Its not super complicated but she writes as if she is the person. It's similar to how people might write from a insane person's perspective, capturing the way they say things or how they think. She is really good with that. So I thought I would suggest it.
Hope you enjoyed it! Comment/ vote! :)