FEEL

7. Altschmerz

Altschmerz ~ weariness with the same old issues you've always had, the same boring anxieties and problems that you've been gnawing on for too long.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

“I'm a slut.”

Mr Pierce chokes on bare air, coughing into a fist when he hears me say this. I couldn't wait until lunch, the moment English period ended, I had to tell him. I had to tell someone.

He straightens on his chair. “Aquila, don't say that about yourself.”

“It's true,” I say it matter of factly. My hands are braced on his desk, I'm displaying this suave bravada to hide the chaos igniting inside of me. “If she didn't come in, I wasn't going to stop him.”

This seems to pique his interest. There's a slight terror in his eyes as he asks me, “Who?”

After a brief observation of his expression, I realize that I don't want to tell him of all people of the most shameful moment of my life. Of the moment I regret more than the day I was born, which, until of late, has been my biggest regret. My delayed reply seems to put him on edge.

“Aquila, you can talk to me.” His reassuring expression says as much.

“I don't want you to lose any respect for me...”

His head shakes. “I won't.”

Just as I'm about to talk, students start to pile into the classroom, two and three at the time. They chattered and laughed vibrantly, very unlike how I've been recently. I hide my envy quite well.

Mr Pierce watches them enter, then directs his gaze back to me. “Do you think it can wait until lunch?”

I bite into my bottom lip. He waits for my reply, patiently as he always is. Because I do not want to hold up his class, I nod my head for him, stretching my lips to a soft grin. Then, I turn towards the door.

In hindsight, I could tell from the cross of his eyebrows that he considered I might be lying to him. If I could, I've had told him no, it can't wait. I had come to him on impulse, a ticking time bomb ready to explode. The amount of bravery it took to walk up to him was fuelled by the burst of the thoughts I'd been suppressing. But he's busy. He has a class. His own life.

I'm already my mother's burden, I won't be his.

My concentration during other classes is lagging. I'm battling between the decision of seeing him during lunch and just ditching the whole thing altogether. I no longer want to talk about it, anyway. However, I respect him too much to do that to him, to say I would do something and not follow through.

It ate at me all day, had my bladder insanely loose during a very important history quiz. By the time lunch break came, I knew that I couldn't confront him in my condition. I wouldn't be able to form any words.

The door to the school rooftop is supposed to be locked during the day. Everyone thinks it is, but the lock had been broken for a while. My guess is that because it had always been locked, students didn't bother checking because they assumed it still was. The first time I came up here was when I was walking by from the library and I saw the caretaker come in from taking a smoke.

The concrete floor had cigarettes scattered all around. My arms were braced on the shoulder-high brick edge of the roof that overlooked the entire school.

When I came up here, I always contemplated jumping. Everytime. I'm alone, nobody knows where I am and hardly anybody comes up here. Nobody could stop me. Not that anybody would.