smother. [h.s.]

25. detention

Dear Prudence - Siouxsie and the Banshees

cw description of blood/cut

Leave Wintergreen before it's too late. 

The warning replays in my head, echoing between the walls of my skull. Where did Harry go, and what did he do there? To who, that is the question. 

I shake my head and try to stop thinking obsessively. If I let myself obsess, it's over for me. Better to be in the dark, and hope these secrets don't overflow one day, exploding like a bomb of our own creation, or a celebratory bottle of champagne on graduation night. 

When I get back to my room, it's suspiciously quiet. The only thing astray is the windows; someone must have left them open overnight, inadvertently letting the light flurries drift into our windowsill and onto our shaggy center rug. 

I rush to close it, then stand with my forehead pressed against the frosty glass for a few moments. My ghostly reflection bounces off the panels. 

I've got a lot to do today: studying for quarterlies, figuring out how I'll pass tomorrow's drug test, and reviewing the latest choreography for Romeo & Juliet. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening startles me. I press my hand to my chest and shut my eyes briefly as the sharp pang in my heart settles down. 

"I didn't realize you were here," I breathe, meeting eyes with Sasha. 

Her lips are pressed into a hard, thin line. Her bright blue eyes are dull, and the bags under them are so purple and deep that they almost age her face. She's dressed in her usual pink pajama set, but her current aura doesn't match its bubbliness. 

She doesn't say hello. 

"What's wrong?" My faint smile fades. The room suddenly feels colder, and the short distance between us begins to seem like miles. 

Sasha takes a few steps closer to me. I stand still, lost as ever. Her glazed-over eyes trail down my face, lingering over my embarrassingly bruised neck. 

"Do you realize how much I've done for you?"

My eyebrows furrow. I take a small step back instinctively. "What do you mean?" 

"Could you ever understand what I've sacrificed?" Her voice is dry and raspy like she's been yelling all night. 

I'm getting deja vu; she's been angry with me before. I usually knew what it was about, at least. Think, Shalom! What have you done this time?

Nothing comes to mind. 

"Can you just tell me what this is about? I'm not catching on." I lift my palms up in surrender, hoping that she will calm down and talk it through with me. 

Who am I kidding? She won't do that. 

Sasha's shaky hands stay by her sides. She suddenly grabs a book from the shelf to her right— my signed edition of Normal People—and lifts it up. I duck out of the way as she flings it right at my head.

"Hey!" I raise my voice slightly, moving farther back into our room, towards the door. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck," Sasha laughs emptily. "What the fuck is exactly right, Shalom." She grabs another book, this one significantly heavier, and takes a step forward to lunge it at me once more.