Suicide Watch

Chapter 6

Temi POV.

The new school semester is fast approaching, and I am less than amused when my mom informed me that not only will Isa still be here, but she will tail me throughout. Everywhere I go, she goes. Because apparently, it's for my 'safety'.

As usual, I am curled up in bed, trying to fall asleep. I am exhausted, but sleep is not coming. I have become used to these sudden bouts of insomnia ever since Grace's passing. Nowadays, it seems I am either sleeping throughout or not sleeping at all.

I bring out my phone and begin scrolling through my camera roll. It's filled with photos of Grace: Grace and I at the pumpkin patch two Halloweens ago, Grace and I dressed in Santa costumes our freshman year of college at a party, Grace and I at our third-grade end-of-semester party. Grace's mom had taken that last picture.

I lock my phone and just stare ahead blankly for a moment. Grace is really gone and I wonder when exactly it will sink into me. I will never be able to see her, to spend time with her, to take more pictures and make memories with her. I know she's gone. But yet, it still doesn't seem real. I can't fully wrap my head around it.

I unlock my phone once again, and this time, I go through my messages. I have a lot of them. Mostly from people sending their regards concerning Grace's death. None of which I ever bothered to respond to.

I open one in particular. It is from Melody, a girl that I briefly dated last year:

Hey, I heard what happened. I'm here if you need to talk.

I stare at the message for a while longer before looking at my other messages. They all seem to take the same structure, people apologizing for my loss and informing me they are a shoulder that I can turn to.

But are they really? Who really wants to hear the ramblings of a grieving girl? People say that out of politeness, or even pity, but don't really mean it. I can't blame them. I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I were in their position.

But the truth of the matter is that I am not. I have the short end of the stick, and the only person who I can really understand how I feel is the person I am grieving. In short, I am on my own.

I lock my phone once again and stare blankly into the darkness now engulfing me.

The first day of classes each new semester had once been something that I looked forward to. As geeky as it sounds, I enjoyed school. I loved being in college. I loved majoring in English, which was something that I was genuinely passionate about studying.

But today does not feel like that. I am up before my alarm clock goes off, seeing as I had slept a wink the night before. I dress up in sweatpants and a shirt, not really caring about my appearance. My makeup routine consists of a lot of concealer in order to cover the dark circles under my eyes, and I throw a baseball cap over my hair.

Maintaining Type 4 hair is already a struggle each day. Having to maintain it while I am grieving is a whole different ball game. I genuinely don't care about styling it. I know my hair is begging to be moisturized, but I am indifferent as I stare at myself in my mirror. For a moment, I think about taking a pair of scissors and chopping at my hair. That thought is interrupted when I hear a knock at my door.

Isa does not wait for an answer before pushing open my room door.

"I wasn't sure if you were awake yet," she says. Then her eyes quickly give me a one over, "you ready?"

Isa is dressed in blue jeans and a shirt, with a smart looking black blazer on top. She wears matching black boots and her hair is down, falling past her shoulders.

"Are you ready?" she asks again after my lack of response.

"I will rather not have you following me around all day," I say, glaring at her in my usual manner.

Isa only shrugs. "I know you wouldn't. But I'm going to anyway as it is what I am being paid to do." She looks at me in a way that displays a deep dissatisfaction with the position she is in. "Your first class starts in 20 minutes so you should probably get going."

I glare at her before walking past her, intentionally bumping my shoulders into hers as I pass. Unfortunately for me, I am met with shoulders that feel like steel and I can only just keep walking to prevent myself from clutching onto my own shoulders and recoiling in pain.

I sense Isa behind me as I make my way out of my apartment and towards my college's main campus, where my classes are. She keeps a little distance between us but her eyes are boring holes into the back of my head. I have to resist the urge not to turn around and glare at her.

It's weird seeing other students on campus moving around, laughing and smiling amongst themselves as usual. It is weird that everything is still occurring normally. An anger boils inside of me and I feel that the world should stop. Nobody should be happy. Not when my best friend in the entire world is dead. Not when she took her own life, because of how fucked up the world is.

I hold on to this feeling for a few moments, just basking in it. However, the anger I am feeling soon evaporates, and I am left with a hollow feeling of sadness.

Luckily, Isa does not actually come into my classes with me. But is waiting at the entrance each time I come out, and she continues to follow behind me at a distance throughout the course of the day.

I spend most of my day keeping my head low and avoiding anyone that looks vaguely familiar to me. I wasn't yet in the mood to actually talk to people about Grace's death, or act put together when they offer their condolences. Frankly, I don't think I would ever be in the mood for that.

After my classes for the day, I retreat into my apartment with Isa close on my heels. More than anything, I want to head back to my room and curl up in my bed like I have been doing these past few weeks.

"Temi."

It is Isa calling my name. She had not said a word to me throughout the day, for which I am thankful. Unfortunately, it appears my luck has run short.

I continue to head for my room as if I had not heard her.

"Temi," Isa says again.

I ignore her until I feel a hand reach out and grip my upper arm. The grip is gentle yet firm and I am forced to pause in my tracks as I stare up at Isa, blinking like a deer caught in headlights.

It is the first time I am that close to her and I see how much taller she is than me. I have to crane my neck to look at her. I notice her plump pink lips and her strong face structure. Everything about her seems so stern. Yet, despite this, her skin appears soft. It is a soft light brown color, a couple of shades lighter than mine.

"I would appreciate it if when I talk to you, you actually acknowledge me."

I want to snap at her and tell her I would rather not, but my throat is dry and my lips do not seem capable of movement. I resolved to fix her with my usual glare.

Isa continues to look down at me, unfazed. "I just want to inform you that we're going to have dinners together starting tonight. It's not healthy for you to be cooped up in your room all the time," she lets go of me then.

"Yeah, I'd rather not," I simply say, before heading into my room.

"It wasn't a question," Isa responds from behind me.

"Yeah, we'd see about that," I state, slamming my room door hard behind me.