Space Egg

December 14th

I run my hand through my hair, the strands still slightly damp against my pillow. My fingers pull away, the bags under my eyes heavy.
Sleep had been short and long between. I had woken up screaming, pure shrills of terror. I hadn't had any memory of the bank robbery besides what had been relaid to me since last night. And now, every single detail had burned itself into my head. Each shot of the gun. The way my fingers didn't hesitate. The warm blood splattering against my skin.
I had truly killed that man. And now I was ment to live with it.
Elda had calmed me back to sleep for a short time, until once again I woke up in a cold sweat. And this would repeat, my body jerking back awake before I could fully consider myself even asleep. It wouldn't let me rest.
    My fingers curled inward, as if reliving pulling the trigger.
    I had seen the man drawn out in a body bag. I had dug his blood out from under my nails. I had heard the stories. And still, how could I of shot him? Something I had sworn to myself I would never do. I had seen the consequences that could come of that first hand. And yet, I had done it. I had pulled that trigger.
    I pull on a pare of khaki corduroy pants, slip on the leather boots, and bundle in my sweater. I try to splash my face with cool water but I know the tear stains and shadows under my eyes are painfully evident. I slip my hair into two parts, two half up half down pigtails just out of my eyes.
    My nerves are shot. My fingers twitch as I twist the knob on the door. The last thing I wanted to do was conquer this new world waiting for me outside this door.
    With a click, I push open the door, letting in a burst of sound, of my new life.

    I pull myself upward, using the slight overhand of the windows edge to find my grip. Keefie had told me to wait for him on the landing of the stairs. And I was, but no way was I going to stand there in the middle of the moving students getting myself trampled on my first day. So instead, I push myself up, clinging to the edge of the window, swinging one knee up before wriggling the rest of the way into the overhang. I try to hide my gasp of pain when I bonk my rib on the marble slab, and fail miserably. For once I was thankful for the noise and action around me to cover it up. I push my back against the thick glass pane, feeling the cool chill push through my sweater. There was quite the overhang, easily enough for me to pull my legs up and cross them comfortably. From here I had the perfect view of the hubbub and buzz of the morning.
    Girls anywhere from 14 to 18 were walking around, getting ready for the day. All looked put together and clean, hair well done, clothes neatly pressed, and knives shined. Every single one carried a knife. And among the 50 something girls I can spot at least 3 guns. I got the sense that given the opportunity each of these girls knew how to kill me in at least 3 different ways.
    Below the stairs, I can see boys around the same age starting to emerge from the staircase on the left. It was a similar sight. All neatly put together, deadly poised, chatting among themselves.
    "You look deep in thought?" Keefie points out, pulling himself up in the window beside me, surveying the scene. I note that he's not nearly as put together as the rest. His hair was tousled, his clothes un-ironed and wrinkly. I can't help but wonder if he got a pass to dress like this because of his fathers position in Salvio.
    "Im not awake enough to think." I groan, rubbing the cheeks under my eyes.
    Keefie looks wide awake. Bouncing awake. I would wager he was either on his second cup of coffee or was just really a morning person.
    "No sleep?" He asks, his ever so slightly present accent slipping through on the word sleep.
    "Not enough." I confirm, I'm sure the shadows under my eyes backing up my story.
"Did Elda help you move in alright?" He asks, his fingers drumming against the windowsill. He had definitely gotten himself too much coffee.
"Not much to move." I shrug, wrapping my arms against the thick sweater enveloping me. I twist the new wring on my finger, the metal cool against my hands.
"Well I better get you to breakfast before you fall asleep again." Keefie states, sliding down from the window offering his hand.
I ignore the gesture, sliding down myself trying to hide the slight grimace. Keefie notices but bites his tongue, a wise choice with the mood I was in this morning. 
"As long as I don't have to get the hash."
He laughs. "No promises."