Every day since the break up, I walk faster or slower to make sure I pass him. Just at least once. Sometimes I make excuses to pass the classes he's in, just so he can see me. And sometimes, after I do these things, I let my imagination run. I imagine horrible things happening to me just in case he cares. I remember a few of these scenarios.
I was sitting there, on my knees, putting a whole sleeve of pads I had shoved into my backpack into my locker, for safekeeping. My friend was knelt next to me talking, but I don't remember what she was saying. All I remember was him walking by me, talking about "benching the barbells" if that's even a thing. His voice, i've been longing to hear him call me 'baby' again, but i'll take what I can get. I'm hastily putting everything in my backpack, just in case i'm late for my last class. I go to stand up and slice my arm on the screw in my locker. A nice, clean slice down my arm at least 15 inches. I start screaming, the new pain hurts. I look at Bella, she's panicking. The blood rushes down my arm and people look at me, i'm grimacing. Heather. My mom's best friend, the teacher teaching the class he's in. I stumble in there and I look at her with pure fear and hold up my arm, "I need help-" I start and he looks up and his face goes from confused to horror. She looks at me with the same expression. Bella tells her to call 911, and she does. But all I can do is look at him and his fear. I try not to, but I just keep looking. He doesn't get up, he doesn't ask what's wrong, but I know he's thinking about it.
That's usually where the imagination ends, I don't wanna make too many untrue narratives.
The second image is the most common. I think about it almost every time I see him.
I'm minding my business, trying to get to where I need to go. The hallways are quiet, I walk down the stairs and I hear someone yell from behind me. "Hey!" I hear, I turn around and the person walks up to me and shoves me down the stairs. I hit each stair and I land on the floor, unconscious. I wake up only a little bit later and I find myself waking up to him running towards the person who pushed me. He starts yelling and pins the kid against the wall and yells at them, and then comes back to me panicking. He's looking around for someone, but my leg is broken. I can feel it. I lift my head a little and I see it going in a direction it's not supposed to. "Are you okay?" He asks. I shake my head and point to my leg. He continues to look around but eventually he caves and picks me up. The bell rings, he's late. But he's bringing me effortlessly to the nurse, and eventually I end up in there.
I don't know what prompts these, maybe a part of me wants him to care but another part of me believes he'd just be shocked and move on if anything happened. I don't know, we'll never know.
