Different colored minds

Hold my hand

ALIANA POV

I'm walking to school when I see her up ahead. I run up to her.
"Good morning," I say happily. Abelle looks down at me.
"Hi," she smiles.
"Tryouts are today! Are you excited?" I smile. 
Abelle looks at me nervously.
"I'm so excited." She still looks nervous and shaky.
"Hey Abelle, I haven't asked you this yet, but what are your pronouns?"
She stops and then looks at me.
"She, her," she smiles. "I made this bead bracelet for my wrist too if people forget," she holds up her wrist. On it is a thin beaded bracelet with small letter beads reading the words she/her in rainbow.
"It's so pretty!" I smile at her. My hand has subconsciously grasped hers. Her hand is strong. I pull back, blushing.
"Sorry, I didn't," she looks at me curiously.
"Are you apologizing for touching my hand?"
"I forgot to ask," I must be blushing. She's so freaking hot.
She laughs and then holds out her hand.
"Here, if you want you can even hold it." She concludes. I blush even worse.
"My first period is in the tech building, what about yours?" Her hand is sitting there, waiting for me like some life line I didn't know I needed. All of this time.
I decide to take a hold of it. My heart is hammering in my chest about a million miles an hour. She's so wonderfully beautiful. She's breathtaking. She's wearing a pink top and skin tight white pants.
"Mine classes are in there too," I smile.
Her grip tightens on my hand.
"Alright then, let's go to class."
The hallways seem smaller now that we're holding hands. The eyes trained on me the second I step into it. But I'm not looking at them. I'm looking at Abelle. For the first time in the life I don't care what all of the people walking down the hall. Im too focused on Abelle. Abelle is looking beyond the people towards the window in the back. She's walking confidently without a care in the world. I wish I could be that. I wish I could not care what they think but I still do.
Abelle gives my hand a squeeze.
"Well this is my class, I'll see you afterward," she smiles. I smile back as she releases my hand. She steps inside. The door closes behind her, and then I turn around to face the eyes. They say I'm filthy. That I'm doing life wrong. I look down the hall and keep walking. There are whispers. There are eyes. And then there's me.
I clench my fists as I walk down the hall. I'm heading to class, I'm going to make it. I can hear the cogs working in peoples' heads. What if they talk to my parents? What if my parents think I'm sinning? What am I supposed to do now? How do I explain this without Abelle having to talk to the people in question. How am I going to explain myself? I shouldn't have to explain myself. I should just be able to like her. Because I do. And that's all it takes to realize it. It's the easiest thing to have decided. I like her. And the more that I acknowledge it. The more I know it's true. A small smile spreads on my lips. I guess my parents had to find out some day. But the bigger question here is, I still love God. And I still love Christianity. But am I going to hell anyways?
The bell rings.
I hate how existential my head gets. I hate my head.
I try to even out my breathing as I step into class.
Everyone in here is laughing. The thumping of noise around me keeps me from listening to my head. I'm distracted by the pain in my ears instead. And it's all I need to get through.
I sit down at my desk with my head down.

Life is my prison cell. No matter what I do eyes are looking at me. Eyes want to know me. They want to know what I'm going to do next. They want to know about the worst parts of me that I don't even want to know about. I'm ashamed. Everyone watched me date joe. Everyone watched me become captain of the cheer leaders. And now, everyone knows I'm a freak who loves girls.
I feel something wet slide down my cheek.
It falls onto my lips. It tastes like salt.
Now I'm crying.
If they weren't looking before they are now. Why do I have to care if they see? Why do I always have to care? I can't stop caring. I can't stop caring.
My hand shoots into the air.
The teacher calls on me.
"I need to use the restroom," my heart is hammering and I feel the tears running down my cheeks. The teacher is going to talk about how it's the first five minutes of class. The teacher is going to talk about how irresponsible I am for asking right after the bell. The teacher won't see what I'm going through.
"Go ahead," the teacher says.
Everything in my body decompresses as I race out of the room and back down the hall.
A pair of teens is playing hooky in the corner of the hall waiting for a moment to leave the premises.
I keep running.
I don't stop until I'm in the stall and then I crumble. Should I drown myself in the toilet? I need to find something sharp.
Something to hurt me. Something to take me out of my head. I need out. I need out. If I die it'll all be quiet. I won't have to think about what other people are thinking about. I won't have to run in circles. I won't have to hear my own thoughts. I can just be done.
I take a deep breath. I'm so tired of living inside my head. I need out.