My Lifeline

9

I hate mirrors. Yet I can't help but stare back at my reflection every chance I get. I need to look, I need to check. I've never cared much about my appearance or making an effort, but unfortunately I'm an extremely self conscious person. There is not one thing about myself that I like.

I hate my thin lips, my crooked nose, my acne, my pale skin, my straight hair that only flops in one specific way. I hate it all.

I hate the body I've grown with, I hate the face of the girl who once smiled in photos with ease and loved every inch of herself.

I force myself to turn away from the mirror, stopping myself from insulting my appearance further. I don't need this tonight, not when I'm about to be around a crowd of people who I've never once spoken to.

I'm already exhausted.

My hands run over my black trousers and T-shirt, smoothing out the outfit before I add a coat to cover my arms from the cold. I grab my phone which I don't even need because I never use it, and then I walk out of the house and drag my feet along the pavements until I reach Beck's house.

Beck lives only ten minutes away from me, his house is much nicer than my own, showing me that perhaps his parents are richer than anyone could've ever imagined. The garden is massive, taken over by a swarm of my classmates and other random people who are dancing and screaming to the loud music which almost destroys my ears. I grimace my face at the sight, realising I've made a mistake. This isn't my scene, someone like me should not be at a house party. Half the people here don't even know that I speak and actually have a voice.

I'm about to pivot on my foot and head back home, but a familiar voice calls out to me and instantly causes my body to tense.

"River!" Ryan calls out, waving in a drunken state from the balcony of the second floor. Dozens of people are around him, all smoking and necking down drinks. "I'll go get Will. Wait there a sec."

I try my best to smile and nod as I stand there awkwardly and rub my arm for comfort. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. Everyone else seems to be so care-free and relaxed; dancing and singing together. I don't fit in.

After a minute passes, Will's tall frame exits the house and pauses on the wooden steps. He twists his head and darts his eyes around the garden, desperately trying to find someone until they drop on me. A smile pulls on his cheeks before he lifts his head and strolls over to me, holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

"You came," he says, still smiling.

"I did," I reply awkwardly.

"Coming in?" He motions his head towards the house which is making feel anxious to my stomach.

I nod my head and allow him to take lead, showing me through the rooms until we reach the kitchen that is home to dozens of glass bottles.

"Want a drink?" he asks me, talking loudly so I'm able to hear him over the music.

I hesitate. "Sure."

"What do you want? We've got vodka, gin, whisky, beer, sourz, shots, tequila, cider, soft drinks..."

I dart my eyes around the different selections, not having a clue what is what or how they taste. "What do you think I'd like?"

Will hums to himself and looks at the drinks. "Probably cider if you're not a big drinker. It's a low percentage."

"Cider it is then," I decide. I'm internally cringing at the way I'm acting.

Someone bumps into me while Will's pouring me a drink. Luckily he doesn't notice. I pull at the sleeves of my coat and glance around the room, feeling my lungs failing on me as anxiety kicks in.