A Fractured Lover (Student/Teacher)

Chapter 22

Have you ever wondered why bad things happen to good people and vice versa?

I know I have. It's something that has kept me up at night with the stars and moon, feverishly racking my brain to come to a solid conclusion. And time and time again, I come up sorely disappointed.

 I will never be able to fathom why life is so unfair to those who simply don't deserve it. Good people don't deserve to have their lives ripped apart at the seams.

Good things happen to good people. Bad things happen to bad people.

Which is why I've come to the only possible conclusion there is.

I am not a good person.

That was the constant thought running through my mind as I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair. I don't know how long I had been in the shower, nor did I care. I deserved the scalding heat of the water pounding on my back until it was red, raw, and numb. I deserved the unrelenting fear circling through my body like a predator about to indulge in his most exciting hunt and ultimate kill. The victim would be my sanity.

I didn't go to class today. After finding out about Greg's release last night I went through an array of emotions. At first, I was in shock. Rachel was talking to me, trying to get through to me desperately. After a moment or two, unfortunately the shock wore off and the panic attack set in.

I cried violently, hyperventilating so hard and so deeply that I eventually passed out, leaving Rachel a frantic mess as I laid on the floor, un-moving for what she claims was a century.

It had probably only been less than ten minutes.

Either way, in those ten minutes, she had managed to get a hold of both Ben and Mia, who were by my side within minutes of me waking up. Ever since then, I had been emotionally shut down. I was in a state of acceptance. Acceptance that this was all happening again and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Once I had determined that no amount of pressurized hot water was going to ease the tension that had built up in my muscles, I shut the water off, pulled back the shower curtain, and stepped out.

The notion of a towel was long lost in my mind. I actually appreciated the distraction of the water petals rolling down my chest, over my flat stomach, and down the length of my legs. A pleasant tickle accompanied the motion of the water down my body. The rug underneath my feet dampened with each passing second. The shower had steamed up the small bathroom so that all of the mirrors in the room were faded with steam and the air was palpable enough to choke on.

I reached my arm out to the mirror that was stationed in front of me. I ran my fingers across the warmed glass until a streaked figure appeared before me and if I wasn't so tightly wound emotionally, I think I would of gasped in shock.

I knew it was my face that I was staring at. The same chestnut hair hung over my shoulders in a wet mess. Every shape and angle of my facial features was the same. And yet there was an unmistakable difference.

My light brown eyes, that were usually so full of life, now reflected empty pits of indifference. There was no spark in the pair of eyes that stared back at me. Only hopelessness. And if you looked close enough, you could pick out the hint of overwhelming despair that clouded their depths.

I pulled myself away from the disapproving mirror and lulled back into my bedroom, throwing on a pair of sophie shorts and a cut off tee-shirt, I dropped myself back into the same position on my bed that I had been in since 3 am this morning.

I had tired sleeping but it had proven too difficult as the constant nightmares that racked my mind every time I slide into a deep enough sleep became too much to handle. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally.