rage • l.h

5. hi im calum

I hated that I was brushing my teeth with such vigor my gums were bleeding. I hated that I had shaved and exfoliated my legs. I especially hated that I spritzed perfume on my wrists and made sure there wasn't a hair out of place.

After making sure there wasn't a single curl peeking through my attempt to straighten my hair, which rested low on my back, I decided I looked presentable.

I'd became the girl who cared about a man's opinion of her appearance.

Not to mention a man I disliked so much.

He pushed all of my buttons, pissed me off more in three conversations than my brother had in six years, and anticipated all of my snarky replies.

Worst of all, I couldn't scare him.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek until it ached, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Everything suddenly became too much, the cemented bathroom walls, the way my shirt rubbed against my stomach, the emotions.

The way that although the marks Luke left on my neck had nearly faded, I could still make out the faint outline of his teeth just below my jaw.

I dug my fingernails into my palms in an attempt to remain composed, to remain calm. I felt blood prick the surface of my hands but couldn't find the right emotions to care. I wanted to go home, where things were familiar. My brother was there to hang out with me, my mom would make us breakfast even if she had worked an overnight.

Everything here was new, and I was scared.

I ripped a makeup wipe out of the package and angrily scrubbed my face, getting rid of any evidence that I cared. He couldn't know I cared.

A bloody makeup wipe and messy ponytail later, I looked entirely the part of the girl who does not give a fuck. My palms stung, a reminder I needed to start biting my nails again.

The tears that ran down my face were no longer streaked with mascara as a cool calm washed over me, a calm that everyone in my path should be scared of.

I'm better off being feared.

"Cece! Get out! I'm going to throw up!"

I swung open the door, all evidence of my tears gone.

Evie pushed past me, hurling her body over the toilet as her stomach emptied. I instinctively shoved my own feelings down, and rushed to her side.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I held her hair in my hands. My voice came out unintentionally cold.

"I'm just so anxious. I forgot to take my medicine and I get so nervous around him and I can't handle it. I'm going to say something stupid." Her breathing was labored as she composed herself.

She sniffled, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

I had to tell her.

She was the first real friend I had. She deserved to know. Besides, it was nothing.

Right?

"Evie, I have to-"

I was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Oh my god. I have to brush my teeth and fix my hair. He can't see me like this." Her breathing picked up again as panic flooded her eyes.

"I'll get the door. Take all the time you need." I tried to be a good friend in order to compensate for the fact that I'm a fucking liar. I'm a bad friend and an even worse person for doing this to her.

She just threw up at the thought of being around him, and I got turned on thinking about what rings he'll be wearing tonight.

I don't deserve good things.