It seemed so....dark. The same grey corridors, same green quadrangle, same white wash walls, same grey staircase with grey tiling’s, same white doors, same boring classroom, , same wooden chair, same wooden desk. Everything was so...same. I hated it.
"Tatianna.."I called. A hapless smile scrawled across her face. Her eyes were tired and exhausted, but there was a strange twinkle, a mist in her eyes, like one in fairy tales, " Last night, I sneaked out at 3 in the morn to meet him". That’s the first thing she said to me, grabbing on to my shoulders. That’s all she ever spoke about "Him", her almighty boyfriend. "We spent all night just looking at the stars, listening to Taylor Swift..." She sighed. "It was a dream"
"Eww..." I sniggered at the Taylor Swift comment.
"What...you don’t like Taylor Swift?" She asked.
"No...she's too whiny!" I replied, giggling a little. "I prefer....Metallica, Children of Bodom, you know," I answered.
"Oh! You mean like Metal?" She scoffed. "No wonder..."
"No wonder what?" I asked
"No wonder you were slicing yourself up all 'Oo! I want to kill myself!' That’s all they speak about in those songs. You should stop listening to them, you know? She mimicked me, looking at her nails. "Oh no, My nail broke! “She scoffed, while I was still reeling from her previous comment. It was always like this, always. One moment it was a perfectly good conversation and the next...she was laughing... She was laughing at me. At my pain. At me, at who I was or had become. I had no control over my hands, my body shook violently, as I raised my hand and with the back side of me palm, slapped her hard across the face.
She had this look, a mixture of shock, and utter amazement, along with a bountiful bouquet of anger. It was priceless. I couldn’t help but smirk. Yeah, that little bich wasn't expecting that.
"WHAT THE F*CK?!" She yelled, bounding off her seat. "What the hell is WRONG WITH YOU! That’s going to BRUISE MY FACE, YOU DUMB SH1T!"
"So you’re going to hold it to me, like a knife against my neck?" I spat, keeping my tone down.
"God Xee, it’s just a joke." Kara rarely spoke. She sat with us, and usually listened, but when she did speak, it was like she was trying to infuriate me. "You didn't have to do that."
"IT'S TRUE, RIGHT?!" Tatianna continued. It’s strange, how evil someone so perfect can look when they know they have power over you, when their eyes light up into this perfect synchronization of hatred and anger, it would have been beautiful, and almost poetic...if that glare wasn’t for me. But how can I have blamed her. She didn’t know, (and she never would) that I still cried, that I still hurt, that I still "sliced myself up" no… she had no idea how much it ached, how alone it felt, in the darkness with no one, not even yourself to keep you company.
"You called me up at three at night crying, and I helped you! When you whined about how much you hated yourself, I was there! I was there when you were pouring acetone down your tongue, and now...you SLAP me!" She spat. It was like acid was being thrown in my face.
"And I wasn't, every time you cried cause your dad lost his temper and threw things at you, or when your boyfriend was cheating on you, or when your mother threw you out of the house for having a boyfriend? Or how about all those nights, I called "him", I made up for him, all the 'counseling' I had to give you till six in the morning; that counts for nothing?! I was not there? Who was it then, huh? Kara?!?!" I wanted to yell right back, but I never had any voice to yell. It was like I could scream in a megaphone and no would hear me. So I kept mum. I never mattered.
"Sorry..." I muttered instead.
"God, Xara, sometimes...really." She spat, as she sat down, removing her pocket mirror, examining her face. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t be there anymore, so I slunk off to the library. They'd never miss me either way. My presence was only necessary when they were breaking down. The fact that I was broken didn't count.
I was late to class that morn. I needed to calm down, sit in the silence, shut my ears and pretend I didn't exist for a moment.
"Late...again?" My class teacher muttered, looked at me threw his little round specks.
"Sorry sir" I muttered
"See Xara, I know you miss your friends in your old class, but at least try to make some here?" He said gently, gesturing to my seat. I felt my face go red.
I didn’t listen to any of the lessons except History and Art. I enjoyed History, the way our class teacher always wove it into stories and activities. He made the subject come to life. The only reason I didn’t lock myself in my room and stay away from school, was because History, Art, and occasionally English. In History, I found I wanted to prove myself to this teacher, who had given me a sense of individuality. I would force myself to give an opinion, to speak and try so hard to be a good student in his class, simply because he saw something others, including myself, did not. He saw who I could be.
I walked out of class as the bell rang. Immediately, anxiety flooded into me, I couldn’t be around Tatianna. I needed to be away from her, just for a bit. Just a little while. Till I calmed down, till her face stopped making me see red. I was afraid I'd land up strangling her. I didn't need murderer added to my list titles.
I walked off to choir practice, slinging my hymnal into the small carry bag. I had stage fright, and was in a choir, what are the odds.
That’s when I met her, that other beauty. She was not one of those girls you'd look at and go..."Wow, hot!" She had a strange charm about her face, one you had to look at and wonder about, think for a moment, before it seeped into you. Her deep set eyes in dark auburn skin, with a beautiful large smile and a devilish giggle, she was like an Indian doll, innocent, bubbly, and strange. Actually, she was stranger than anyone I'd ever met. She was...wonderfully weird, and different from the plastic crap that haunted those hallways with their perfect skin and puffy red lips.
She was the "new kid" who had skipped a grade, so was two years younger than myself, and had the voice of an angel. She was like a little fairy, dancing around, social little creature, talking to everyone and anyone, dragging me with her. She smiled and laughed and kept me sane. When I spoke to her, I found a piece of my heart open, one which would close up again when I was alone. She did have a small fault though... she couldn’t give advice to save her life.
I remember one conversation clearly, that has often replayed itself in many instances, like déjà vu.
"Oh no! I have a test next period. Crap, not studied." I sighed. Her face would look puzzled, and almost bemused. She looked almost confused with the world. I couldn’t help but smile at her silence.
"Ok..." She answered, "So...what do I do...?" It was a real question. My jaw would drop. "What!? I can't take it for you!" She was reaching a high C, completely exasperated. I continued to stare, just to see her reaction. "What! Stop staring!!" She smiled nervously. I smiled back. I was smiling, really smiling, but there is always calm before the storm.