champagne problems: short story [h.s.]

06 - fucked in the head

"what a shame she's fucked in the head"

April 2015

Wisteria hasn't spoken to Harry in over a week. To be fair, she hasn't spoken to anyone for over a week.

She's barely been able to get out of the bed to go to classes. She's missed almost every morning class she's had because her bones feel like lead and all she wants to do is sleep the day away.Her temper is beginning to become short as well.

The only reason she has been going to any other classes, is because Hayden has been making her get up and go to them. But Wisteria is still finding herself snapping at her friend every know and then from the non-stop nagging to get up and take a shower.

But Hayden doesn't give up, making sure that Wisteria keeps up every other day to take shower. And using the time she's in the bathroom to wash her sheets because they are beginning to get gross and disgusting from how much Wisteria stays there.

The clothes she's been wearing are the same pair of sweatpants and long sleeve shirt that belongs to Harry. If she can't find it in herself to see him face to face, she at least wants to be surrounded by him while she's at her lowest right now. The lingering smell of vanilla that is his distinct aroma seeping into her skin.

She feels like she is walking around in a corpse. Herself looking down on her body and watching as it goes through the motions, and she hates it.

"Hey Wis," Hayden nudges her foot that's poking out from underneath the blanket. It's a Saturday which means Wisteria doesn't have to try to force herself to get out of bed at all today. "Let's go outside, catch some rays, feel the warmth on our skin, huh?"

"No," she grumbles back, muffled by her comforter thrown over her head.

"Fine, you want to hang out with our friends?"

"No," she says again, getting a little angrier this time.

"Maybe you could call Harry?" Hayden suggests, calling Wisteria's boyfriend by his actual name instead of her usual 'Harold.'

"Yeah, hell no," she snorts sardonically. There's no fucking way she is going to call Harry when she's like this.

"Wis," Hayden sighs, "You need to get up and at least take a shower, you're starting yo smell rank."

"Jeez, thanks."

"You know I'm only trying to help," Hayden replies, and Wisteria has had enough.

"Then stop trying to fucking help," she bolts upright in her bed, snapping back at her best friend. "No one said you had to fucking help me when I'm like this. No one is holding you at gun point. If you want to go outside to go hang out with your friends, then go fucking for it, I don't give shit. Just please leave me the hell alone."

Hayden's quiet after her friend's snap. Her mouth slightly parted and just staring at the lump on the bed.

"Fine," she says softly and turns on her heel to storm out of their dorm room. The slam door loud and echoing in the room.

Wisteria can't find it in herself to care all that much. Feeling nothing from snapping at her friend, and honestly feeling nothing at all.

It was only about fifteen minutes later, Wisteria guesses when the door opens again. Not only the voice of her best friend but another voice walking in.

"I know that you have no idea what's going on, but maybe you can get her out of bed. She can't lay there forever. She needs to get up and go outside. Feel the sun on her skin. The wind through her hair. She needs it," she tells them.