The Darkness Gets Bigger

1.-Pax•Am Days

I lay on the plush carpet in my teenage bedroom, wondering why God hates me so much. Or whoever decided to make me bust my knee so badly I could never compete as an athlete again.

"Cat, honey?" I heard my mother's voice, muffled through the solid oak door.

I remained quiet.

"I know you're upset, but we still need to talk. You have to find another career. Move on, sweetie."

Angry, venomous words boiled in the back of my head, but I managed to suppress them. At least for now.

"There's nothing to talk about," I sighed

My eyes flickered over the medals, plaques and trophies that occupied the glass shelf over my twin bed.

Former heroes, who quit too late,
Who just wanna fill up the trophy case again,

I felt a sudden surge of energy, longing to be out on the track, running and throwing and jumping. That pent up  energy was entirely useless now.

I rolled my head over to the side, looking at myself in the ceiling to floor mirror I had on the wall. My long dark hair fanned out around me, twisting and curling around like poisonous snakes, looking for it's next catch.

And in the end, I'd do it all again,

The energy I had bottled up managed to transfer to my brain, and I wondered what it would be like to completely change. My personality, image - everything. I had nothing left to lose anyway, my friends had all departed on the news that my career as an athlete was over and my so called boyfriend called it off with me the minute he heard about the cost of my knee surgery. Luckily my parents reluctantly footed the bill, and it was healing well, but it would never be what it used to.

I mustered up the courage to stand up, shrug on my jacket and head out, slipping out of the door undetected. I silently rejoiced at the fact that my room was on the first floor, so I didn't have to sneak downstairs.

Out I went into the cold Chicago air, my hair whipping around violently in the wind. I shoved my gloveless hands into the small pockets that my jacket provided, blowing a cold breath into the air. I put my earphones into my ear, and turned on my music, full blast. 70% of my playlist were all Fall out boy songs, the other 30% was ranging between Panic!, Twenty One Pilots and The Neighbourhood.

I think you're my best friend,

I stalked around the block before I decided exactly where I was going. Angie's Hair Salon. The place I always had my hair cut as a teenager. I pushed the worn down door and the bell rang, signalling that a customer had walked in.

A short woman in her late thirties with dimples came out of the back room like a flash. When she saw me, she grinned and pulled me in for a huge hug, that I returned with less zeal.

"What's up? You seem really bummed out," she questioned, motioning for me to sit on the peeling leather couch that served as a waiting area.

Angie was one of those people who could make anything sound exciting, and got excited over everything. The opposite of me, with my monotone voice and attitude problem.

"I'm done. My career. It's over." I said lackadaisically, staring at the peeling maroon paint that coated the walls.

"Oh..I'm so sorry, Cat," she managed to produce a convincing frown out of her otherwise joyful face.

"S'alright," I shrugged "I'll find another job"

"But you were a natural out there! I don't understand.."