How to Save a Life

Chapter 5

Class is finally over for what felt like ages. Gathering my things, I head over to my locker in the science room. The last class before school is over happens to also be my homeroom which is a highlight-who wants to walk to another room to just stay for five minutes!? I don't need any of my books today since I finished all my homework and the classwork I dozed out on earlier. I place all my things from my book bag into the cheap metal bin glued on the wall the school likes to refer to as a locker: my pencil bag, binders, and spirals. I pull out my headphones and smartphone from the pocket of my book bag before slinging the much lighter bag onto my shoulders. Everyone waits impatiently for the bell to blare out and break the silence and murmuring.

"Hey Ginger." Jessamine says with a smile as she and Carly, her best friend, walk over.

"Hey Jessamine." I say with a smile as I stand next to her. I run my fingers through my tangled, knotted locks, trying to fix my hair's layers to look right...or at least half decent.

"So he was like 'what?!' and I was like 'Oh My Gosh!' It was crazy..." Carly exclaims casually as she tells Jessamine her 'historical' even. I'm not sure what it's about, but probably a guy she likes or something like that. That seems to be the typical conversation for her. I mean aren't we all in that weird boy-crazed phase?

The bell rings, signaling for us to leave the classroom. The students swarmed past each other, racing to the buses and car lot. Unlike everyone else, I walk down the hall. I wasn't in a rush to go anywhere. I have a while to wait to go home anyway. I make my way to where the late bus students wait for their buses, on the other side of the school campus.

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After what feels like hours of sitting against the cold wall in awkward silence, the bus pulls up and I get onto the bus. One of my quirks begins to kick in and I find myself locating the middle of the bus. Because I have an 'amazing' combination of my over-perfectionist ways and unpredictable OCD thing, I have to sit in the center of the bus to have any chance of feeling comfortable and free from anxiety. I found a way to remember where the middle of the bus-there's an old number 22 sticker above the window labeled emergency exit. I take my unofficially-claimed seat and place my feet in the seat, preventing anyone from sitting next to me. Students file into the bus looking for seats. The bus begins to move as I put in my headphones and blare my song.

"I hate feeling like this"

"Im so tired of trying to fight this"

"Im asleep and all I dream of is waking to you"

'I can't fight this...I need you, Brice.'

"Tell me that you will listen"

"Your touch is what Im missing"

"And the more I hide I realize Im losing you."

'I'm missing you. I've already lost you.' A tear falls down my rosy cheeks as I allow myself to think of him still.

"Comatose"

"Ill never wake up without an overdose of you"

'I need you.'

"I dont wanna live, I dont wanna breathe"

"Less I feel you next to me"

"You take the pain I feel"

'Waking up to you never felt so real' I sing in my head along with the song as it plays on replay. Tears slowly trail down my cheeks. I look away from everyone, out the window to see my apartment complex come into view and sigh with relief as I can get off this thing. The last thing I need is people to see my rosy, tear-stained cheeks and my crystallized eyes, and ask what's wrong...again.

My bus stop comes up. I quickly stand up and walk to the crookedly opened doors.

"Bye ma'am." The bus driver says with a smile.

"Bye." I say returning the smile the best I can. He always says ma'am or sir to the passengers...kinda generous and uncommon. I walk off the bus and head to my apartment complex.

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I arrive at the door shortly and grab my keys. As I enter, I take in the room and sigh. I'm finally free to let my emotions overwhelm me in peace. I set my bags down in my room and sit on my zebra print bed and stare around at my room: my dark oak wooden furniture has a small shine as the lights illuminated from the ceiling fan into the room, my photos scatter the room placed in frames, knick knacks clutter the tops of my furniture, book spines face me, sitting on a colorful tall shelf, my artwork is displayed on my closet door, my small desk with the crappy laptop that lags to much. It was all welcoming and comforting, but it seems like nothing can help with my issues at this point.