Exposure

Gabriella today. And I'd be lying if I said the encounter with Maria hadn't thrown me off my game. But that was three weeks ago.

Gabriella is in a class I don't have. She does chemistry. That concept bewildered me when I first heard it. She's gorgeous, she's popular, surely she must be sinfully stupid, but apparently not. Well, she does have a hidden key rock. About a month ago I took it and brought it to the mall to make a copy, then neatly placed it back. Now it's the dead of night, and Gabriella's night classes are a blessing for me. I get to try my key. It's her parents old house, not too old. It really is a lovely little building. I slide my shiny key into the lock and twist, and it works. I give the door the slightest little push and I feel something fantastic as the heat of the house collides with chilly old me. I quickly enter the house and shut the door behind me. I take off my shoes and I help myself to a cold soda before relaxing on the couch. I notice a few daisies on the coffee table, at it triggers a hidden switch in the memory centers of my brain.

Maria resides in one of the deepest chasms of my mind, my childhood. She was a girl down the road, and her parents were friends with mine, which meant I was forced to occupy many of the same rooms as her. Fast-forward a few years of shitty birthdays and we arrive at two years ago, when I started looking for real-life girls to follow for the first time. One day, as I was walking into the library, I tripped and fell. My books flew in front of me and I scuffed the side of my face on the harsh cement step. My blood ran hot and my tear ducts began running with rage at the amount of women around me. And men. Exposure. Finally noticed, after teaching myself to occupy only shadows. Through the swirling images of onlookers bodies, and a few faces, Maria bubbles from my surroundings, sweeping up my books as she equipped medical gauze to my bloodied face. She saw the pain etched in my face and recognized it wasn't only from the wound, and decided she should end those fine years of cold acknowledgment in hallways. It was horrible. Only because I had to, we became friends once again, and she was attractive, but we never became an item. I had an agenda with many other women, but I knew talking to her was the right step to make, dipping back into the shadows again. After a while, it became significantly easier to dodge her, and our friendship finally faded. This was until an insect invaded my space.


Andrew Ethan, a guy known for being incredibly popular, and for beating his girlfriend senseless in one publicly known isolated incident of course. He wasn't ostracized, he was accepted back into the circles immediately. One need not ponder over the behavior of insects. Andrew had decided to step in front of me, and I reasonably decided I was leaving class first, knocking him off balance and causing him to drop the contents of his arms. I didn't look back, but he followed me, an act my finely tuned senses would now pick up a mile away. It wasn't until we reached the courtyard behind the building that he stopped me, and offered me some advice as to how much I watch where I'm going. I waited until the end of his sentence before I began to walk away. It was then that I felt the cold electric connection of his outstretched hand on my chest, blocking me from walking away and filling me with an ancient understanding between two men, both with something dark buried within the core of their being. I take the acknowledgement as literally as possible, and my own outstretched right hand connects with his face, and not stopping it's forward motion until the back of his head has met the cement blocks below us. He angrily squeals a harsh "What the fuck!" and attempts to raise himself, forgetting that his athletic muscular body is inferior to my completely exposed and beautifully pure rage. I slam him back down, softly whispering my resolution.


I stare past his pupils and into his soul. "I will kill you." I draw him closer. "I will kill you." This fuses him with the ground, and I'm able to walk away. As I do, Maria tragically rounds the corner, noting Andrew behind my on the ground and my face stained with the same madness it was on the stairs. And again, I'm exposed to her. She sees into me a second time.

"What did you do to him!" She screams right away, and I know I'm in for a talk about treating people with respect or some shit. I leave quickly and my shoulder connects with hers, refusing to occupy the same space. The collision swivels me partially, and her face displays a look of pain and shock as she swivels too. I ignore it, adjust myself, and walk away. And that was the last entry in my log of Maria memories.


I'm not really paying attention to the television. I turn it off and proceed to enter Gabriella's bedroom. I open her closet and touch the different clothes, both hanging and on the shelves. But somehow, I can't access the same burning desire.


Feeling a bit off, I make sure everything is in the same place, I put on my shoes, and I leave. And I take my soda can with me.

The End

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