THE REST OF THE week blurred together. Scarlet couldn't recognize what was day or night anymore. It all felt the same. She sat by the window in Sierra's room, watching cars drive past her house while she ignored all of her piling schoolwork. When Friday came, she walked into the auditorium, hand in hand with Sierra, and barely lifted a finger anywhere.
Everyone that came up to her told her they were sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry.
Were they really?
Sorry?
Sorry that her mother was murdered in cold blood while she was out on a date with Jake? Sorry that she wasn't there to save her mother? Sorry that after dealing with the spread of terrible rumors about her, a robbery gone wrong plopped itself into her life?
They weren't sorry. They didn't know her. They didn't know her life. They didn't know her mother. They didn't know.
But they kept saying they were sorry. And it took all of her willpower not to lash out at everyone who dared mumble their fake apologies to her.
The weekend consisted of her wrapped up in Sierra's blankets, not wanting to see the light of day. Sierra fed her so that at least her system kept going, but that was about all she could do. Red-rimmed eyes over dark shadows highlighted her face. So long to her mischievous smirk and daring glint in her gaze. They were wiped away in deep crimson.
When Monday rolled around again, Scarlet stumbled into Winter Bay like a zombie would, lifeless and run down. Gray sweatpants covered her legs while a random blue hoodie she found in Sierra's closet hid most of her body. She tied her hair back in the messiest of buns, and considered herself ready to trudge the halls of hell.
More sorry's filtered around. Every person that dared talk to her said how sorry they were about her mother. She dismissed it all and pushed open the door to Ms. Stanford's classroom, hoping the lesson could help drone out the constant reminders of what happened to her less than a week before.
A lesson on Shakespeare and his stupid plays didn't seem so bad after all.
Sinking down onto her seat at the back, she rested her forehead against the wooden desk and welcomed the biting cold of its surface onto her skin. Light chatter filled the classroom as other students came in. Scarlet paid them no mind as the bell rang to signal the start of class.
"Ms. Turner," came a voice from beside her. She lifted her head to find Ms. Stanford leaning over her, hands on her knees. "You know you don't have to be here today, or for the next few weeks for that matter."
"Really?" Scarlet whispered.
"Go rest," she said. Scarlet blinked a few times to get rid of her shock. Never had she expected Ms. Stanford to care. "You're excused from all your work. And I'll go talk to the faculty to excuse you from all of your classes too."
The second bell rang and Ms. Stanford straightened up to address the class about what they would be discussing that morning. She turned back to Scarlet and motioned for the door. Scarlet didn't need to be told twice, and walked out into the empty hallways.
She had a sort of deja vu from the time she cut class. Her mind wandered back to Elliot and how he took her on an unplanned outing. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Even in her lowest moments, he came back to bother her, even when he wasn't physically present.
Instead of divulging into the repulsive thoughts of her mistakes, she took out her phone. She sent a text to her friends, letting them know she wouldn't be at school, despite having seen them before class. Then she searched for Jake's contact and stared at it before letting her heart take control of her actions and pressing the call button.
YOU ARE READING
Forever Crimson
Teen Fiction"The vultures are disguised as humans." Scarlet Turner has her last semester of high school planned out: graduate as best as she can and take care of her sick mother. But when she's told she won't graduate because of the pile of tardies she's collec...
