I Can't See The Sky...

1. Bad Day.

∆∆∆∆∆∆

I wanted Keith to leave me alone.

Smack.

Dodge.

Smack.

Smack.

Duck.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

I paused to study my opponent, currently sprawled on the floor, with her nose gushing blood. Male, female they were all the same to me.

Punching bags who'd agreed to get thrashed.

I was tired of losing, time and time again. I was tired of having to justify it. And, I was tired of feeling numb. I pulled my gaze from my opponent, and looked around the bar/fight club, revelling in the slightest swell of happiness I got from the roaring crowd.

But, it wasn't enough.

Yanking my gloves off, I grabbed my sipper bottle from outside the ring, and lowered myself through the ropes.

Immediately, a group of people surrounded me. I ignored them, choosing instead to put my head down, and phase through, happy that no one noticed me.

Then, I took my hoodie from the attendant, and tugged it on before walking off.

Screw the people. I was here for the thrill, and now that I'd gotten it, as pitiful as it was, I was out of here.

It had been eighteen whole months since Keith and I were forced to spend a week together, and for the first few of those months everything had worked like a charm.

Until those numb spells got worse, and worse, and longer, and longer, until I was just living like that everyday.

But, by that time, Keith had already left for Europe, and text and video calls were our only source of communication.

I was extremely proud of Keith, and I was really really happy that he made the tour team, and I was even there to watch his trial! But, I nearly cost me my sanity.

Because every minute I had to spend around the crowds, pretending to be the team captain's blushing girlfriend, was a another 60 seconds I lost trying to pull everything together. It was horrible. It was like everything I didn't want to do became something I was forced to do.

And I couldn't take that anymore.

I couldn't take anything anymore.

I grabbed my prize money from the sponsor, and took a seat in one of the shadowy corners near the bar.

"Hello there, Lady K. What can I get you to celebrate your victory?" A tired but chirpy voice asked.

I looked up from the extremely interesting counter to face Melanie, the bartender.

"Just a Coke, please, Mel." I said, looking back down.

She nodded and paused for a second, waiting for me to continue, sighing when I didn't.

"Another bad day?"

I nodded, not bothering to meet her eyes.

"Oh, come on! Look up at me, offer me a sarcastic smile!"

"Bad. Day. Melanie. Give me my Coke and leave me alone."

"They call you cry baby cry baby, and you don't even care, cry baby cry baby, tears fall to the ground and you just let them drown!"

I stared blankly at Mel, feeling to... Nothing to even react to Melanie singing Melanie.

Mel groaned.

"That bad, huh? And here I was thinking I'd get some respite from this sick-ass shit."

"Shift." I corrected.

"No. Shit." Melanie said.

I shrugged unhelpfully and pulled out my phone.

Immediately, the screen came alight with a thousand texts from everyone I knew.

A faint feeling of guilt tugged at the back of my head, strong enough to be noticeable, but weak enough to ignore. And so, I ignored it.

Melanie handed me a glass coke, and saw the phone.

"You know, you should at least send them an 'I am alright' text. Especially your boyfriend. I don't think it doesn't hurt him that you're ghosting him. And your parents? They're worried out of their wits, girl. You're driving them off the edge."

I don't care.

The words were right there. Ripe for the taking, but I couldn't make myself say them. Because deep down, I know they were wrong. I did care. I just needed to prove that to myself.

"I know." I muttered quietly instead. "I'll figure it out."

"You don't need to. You just need to text them."

"Not now."

Melanie looked like she wanted to argue, but she just sighed and got pulled away by another customer before she could say anything else.

I sat there for a little while more, before I downed the last of my Coke, slapped some money on the table, said goodbye to Melanie and left.

She was right, and I knew that. What I was doing would probably have been eating at my conscience if I hadn't lost it. But, if I ever got it back...

I'd be drowing in oceans of guilt.