Bad at Endings.

Chapter 2

There are bruises on my body.
Fading watermarks that serve as proof of John's wanting for me.
Or, maybe, the ending of it all.
Over time these now so vibrant blues and purples dotted across my arms and thighs will turn ugly and fade, just as John's feelings for me might have already done.
I had seen the bright piercing glimmer of lust and finally and yes please turn into something else in the blink of an eye. Something dull and cold and unknown. Something that, until this day, had never existed between us.
There had simply been no room.
But now the world seems to be made out of far too much space entirely and I still find myself wondering where I even fit into it all.

That evening I turn myself this way and that in front of the bathroom mirror just so I can get a good look at all the places where John's grasping hands had left their marks on me as he pinned me against the sink.
I press the fingers of my right hand into the marks that circle my biceps. John's fingers are shorter than mine so I end up bending my knuckles in a slightly uncomfortable angle to make it work.
My skin and the muscles underneath ache as I push down hard and then harder.
If I close my eyes, for a moment, I can almost feel his breath on the skin of my cheek again and the warmth and weight of his body as he pushes himself against me.
Almost.
These sensations caused by my own hand are nothing more than ghosts of the memory of him and I wonder if this is all I'll ever have of him now.
If this is all that is left.
I don't want it to be.
This is specifically why I left without saying goodbye.
So I could keep him in my mind on the beach forever with his tanned skin and sun-bleached hair.
But tans fade and summer turns to fall and then winter.

Bruises fade too.

And now, whenever I close my eyes, all I can see is that last look he gave me.
Full of regret.
Regret about us? About me?
Maybe.
It's all I seem to be able to think about and in my mind it has grown so large that it blocks out the sun and casts a shadow on everything else.

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The next day at school I don't see much of John.
This isn't surprising since John is a year older than I am and we don't share any classes but I still get the feeling he is actively avoiding me.
I'm not sure how that makes me feel.
Disappointed?
Relieved?
A bit sad?
Or....maybe....just nothing at all.

I still look for him though.

In the crowded hallways between classes I check for a head of golden hair, a dimpled smile, strong shoulders and a confident stride.... I don't see him.

But I don't stop looking.

**************************************

At lunch-break I finally catch a glimpse of him.
John is seated at a table in the middle of the cafeteria with a whole group of rugby boys and a couple of girls who smile at him and every time he smiles back something cold and ugly and unwanted pierces through my chest.

I have found a small empty table for myself along the far wall of the cafeteria and maybe John has seen me enter after all because somehow he has managed to change his position at his own table so that his back is turned towards me now.

Great.

If I even needed a more clear sign of his rejection of me I really don't need to look any further.

I squint my eyes and scowl at his turned back but, of course, he can't even see me doing it so it is pretty useless.

I do it anyway.