Daffodil Sprouts🌼

Ch. 30 ' Here For You.

I don't know how I get to my room, must be God's favour. I just know that . . . that I wanted to leave there. As fast as I could. It was crazy; I am crazy. I am foolish. I am stupid. I am pitiful. I'm the worst . . . child. Mom deserves better. She deserves better than a temperamental, unthinking, immature, daughter. One that makes her worry.

Thinking of the day I arrived, when I crashed into the tray of food, I should've known then, should've taken precautions, and prepared to go back; it was a bad sign. A 'Yesmi, this place won't serve you well. You'll be big trouble, to yourself and the people around you'.

I drop my bag, and only realise when it lands with a thud that I've dropped it on the floor. Sighing, I walk further to the bed. I thought eating the cookies would make me feel better, but I feel worse. Much worse. Riddled with so much guilt I can't possibly comprehend where it's all coming from. I shouldn't have accepted the cookie invitation . . . No. I shouldn't have accepted the Skip-school invitation. I shouldn't have accepted to follow Angel. I SHOULDN'T have left the class. None of this would've happened if I had just stayed put, none.

I dump the hoodie on the bed edge and something spills out of the pocket. It dangles by the bedside, its end hanging on to the hoodie.

The spinning in my head stops as I take in the sight of the chain. Of course, the chain doesn't spend more than a second in my mind, because its giver —or rather owner— replaces it right after.

Jason.

He . . . he told Mom about the locker room. Mom wouldn't have been so angry if she didn't know. She wouldn't have looked at me the way she did. She wouldn't have said those words to me.

"So this is the kinda girl you are."

I'm out of the room before I know it, chain in hand, stalking to his room with wet eyes. He had no business telling her. He could've just minded his business. Should've just minded his business.

I open the door and enter before realizing I should've knocked. It doesn't bother me, anyway. I look around the room, noting Jason's absence.

"Who's that?"

The voice comes from the door on the other side of the bedside. I walk slowly towards it.

"Jason," I call.

"You're- you're back. Where were you?!"

"That's none of your business."

" . . . what?"

"I said it's none of your business, where I was." My voice is thick with emotion, and tears are inches from dropping from my eyes. "Why, Jason? You didn't have to tell her, you know? It wouldn't have killed you if you didn't, you know?"

"I don't know what you're talking ab—"

"Enough!" I yell as a teardrop finds its way down my cheek. "I'll be doing all of the talking, your voice is annoying right now."

I expect him to say something, yell back, or come out and put in my face those default angry eyes of his, dare me to repeat what I've just said, but he doesn't do any. He remains silent.

"My mom and I are just getting to know each other, you see." I sniff so I can sound clearer. "It's sad but, that's how it is. It's hard enough, if you aim to make things hard for me, wallahi*, Jason, it's unnecessary, because it's hard enough. I've just gone through one of the worst days of my life, and I . . . " I've run out of breath from crying and talking so I take a pause. "The only thing I wanted to do was feel better. Everything that has happened today, after everything, all I wanted to do was feel better. The reason I left the class was to feel better, the reason I left with Rahman was to feel better, and . . . it just kept getting worse. Is it such a bad thing? To want to feel better?"