𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

27. what's left (pt.2.)

T W E N T Y - S E V E N
what's left?

Everything is still so fresh, so raw, so painful. It stings when I see something Sarah and I used to laugh at, or some seeing someone do something we once did. But I've gotten to the point where I know the only option I have is to just keep going—one step in front of the other, eventually I'll look back and this will be something that happened years ago.

But, right now, the news is only a few weeks old.

Scrubbing my hands in the sink I focus on the feeling of the cold water rushing over them, the soapy suds draining down the sink. I don't focus on memories surrounding Sarah, or John B, I just focus on the feeling of the water washing over my hands.

The doors swing open and I hear a pair of giggling teenagers walk in, when their eyes find me they stop walking.

Now, I've been stared at since before I was involved with Rafe—my life has never lacked drama. Some disaster is always happening, bubbling away, melting my life into a puddle of despair. But since coming back from the summer holidays the staring is something different, it's blatant and unashamed. I'm a public spectacle, it feels as though people think it's okay to stare at me.

These girls are no different, their eyes widen. I pull my gaze from them and glance down at my hands, pulling them from the stream of water, I turn off the tap and wipe my palms on the back of my jean shorts. The pair of them linger near the door, both of them glancing between the blonde girl's phone and me. My patience wears thin at the best of times, days like today it's almost completely non-existent.

"Are you just going to stand there like a brainless idiot or are you going to let me out?" I snap at the girls I recognise to be in the year above me.

The blonde pushes her friend out my way and I slip past them, ignoring the whispers that are evoked in my exit. My mother told me to try and ignore all the clamour, to try and focus on getting from point A, to class B and then back home. People are going to talk, so just let them. It's harder than you'd think, to just blank people who whisper their theories on your life—and the theories aren't ever anything nice, it's like those people actively wish my life to get worse. Can they not read a Goddamn room? My life isn't exactly blissful.

Storming down the hallway, I'm needing to consciously stop myself from recreating the meme from Arthur where he clenches his fists. A sharp whistle pulls me from my stewing anger to the audacity of people, I turn and see a group of half a dozen senior boys, all clustered by the lockers. And all staring at me, one of them laughing and glancing at his phone.

I honestly couldn't stop myself, even if I wanted to, my hand moved of its own accord and flipped the bird. Take a picture of that, pricks.

"Fucking creeps," I mutter and just keep walking.

When I finally get back to class, and the creaky door swings open as I push it, the class looks at me. Well, the students do, the teacher is scrolling through his phone—then he too looks at me. I must be going crazy, why is everyone staring at me so much? I went to the toilet, did I accidentally piss myself or something? I go to walk back to my desk but JJ stands up the second he sees I'm back, in a smooth motion he swings his backpack on his back, picks up mine and storms out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me with him.

My eyes widen in confusion. "What the fuck is happening?" I ask as the door slams behind us. JJ is clearly fuming, his grip so tightly his knuckles go ivory and he seems to be almost shaking. "Did I do something?" I fire off another question but it goes unanswered, he's in his own world, so full of anger.

"I swear I'm going to fucking kill him—I already should've killed him, none of this shit would've happened if I put a bullet in his goddamn head," JJ rants to himself. I could hazard a guess as to who he is talking about, but not why he is talking about him. Rafe, I assume. But what did he do?