his and hers | 18+

8 | unbearable mothers

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clementine

i didn't go to school today.

the idea of everyone talking about pierce and i, wondering how someone ugly like me scored the attention of someone as handsome as him, teasing me ruthlessly as if i'm not somebody's daughter. it scares me to even think about it.

i haven't even checked my phone. yesterday, i took the bus home, to no-ones surprise my mother wasn't home, so i sat down on the couch and ended up taking a nap. i eventually woke up, showered and changed, ate some fruit, then slept again.

it's currently nine in the morning, and i haven't moved from my bed.

i've just been staring at my bedroom roof mechanically, my mind running on a rampage of things that could happen to me. they could cut my hair while i'm not looking, they could follow me home, they could break into my locker and ruin my borrowed textbooks, spread rumours, upload embarrassing videos i know they have. there is so many things they could do that'd most likely be my breaking point.

why do i let them hurt me like this? why am i so goddamn weak? why can't i be like those girls that scream, and yell their minds off. sure, people think they're crazy but at-least they don't get bullied.

i sigh, running my hand down my face in defeat. when my mother gets home she's going to talk my ear off, and i'm going to let her because i'm just that. weak.

i shouldn't have let him sit next to me. i should have just got up and sat somewhere else. i shouldn't have let him write my notes, i shouldn't have played footsies with him, i shouldn't have admired his smile so much. i just shouldn't have.

it's my fault, really. i guess any bullying that comes towards me is expected, and deserved.

i wipe some sweat off of my forehead, my back straightening only so i can rip this stupid jumper off, leaving me in only my bra. it's not like anyone is home to see. my entire body has broken out in sweat thanks to the current battle i'm having with my own mind.

with school, my mother, dad gone for a month, what obstacle will hit me next? cancer? maybe someone special to me will die, it only seems fitting with the jinx i've seemed to been cursed with the very day i was born.

my phone vibrates on my desk, but i ignore it. whoever it is can wait, not that it is anyone. i never get any texts so it's most likely an email from some random newsletter i joined three years ago, or a group-chat i was invited into on instagram.

it's a group-chat for band fans—that's literally what the group chat is called. and i'm only apart of it because i saw an advertisement post, commented and was added. it has around fifty three people and we're all allowed to talk about whatever band freely. no one is allowed to judge you, or shame you for any opinions you have.

now that i'm thinking about it, that sounds like everything i need right now.

i slide my phone across the side-table, hesitantly peeking an eye open to check the most recent notification i've received. when i see the instagram logo, i sigh in relief.

i click the notification, and my screen brightens with the group-chats long text chain.

james.misty: hey guys, i've been wanting to get into bands and thought this group was a good way to look into it. any recommendations?

thankfully, i'm able to read the message if i pull the phone close enough to my face, and squint just the right amount. it's still a little blurry, but i'm able to conjure the message in my head so it makes sense.

i read the message, wondering whether i should reply, or let somebody else help him. what if he doesn't like my answers? what if he already listens to them?