Inferior: Draft 2 [ON HOLD]

One

I wake up silently to sunlight streaming in through the window, shaking off the dream. I sit up and pull the clothes I set out last night from the floor next to my old mattress. I grab the bandages and tape from the floor next to the clothes and methodically rip off last night's bandages that are lightly crusted with my dried blood. I glance at the shallow, straight, horizontal cuts along my arms. Specifically, my forearms. I grab a cloth, get it wet with the faucet in the corner of my room, and sponge off the dried blood. Re-dressing my arm, I quickly clothe myself in my usual stuff, dark hoodie to cover the gauze and my features, black leggings that cover my uncut legs, and black and white converse that look like they've been through hell. I quietly tiptoe around, brushing my teeth in a large metal kitchenware bowl that I fill every day from the sink-less faucet. I dump the waste water out the window of the second story apartment building. I have to share with my parents, I'm only 17, but I will move out soon. As soon as I have stolen enough money over time from my parents and finish school. Or I make a rich friend and live with them. Yeah, right, my subconscious scoffs. Like you have friends. I shake my head to clear it. I pull my Samsung Galaxy S4, earbuds, and the cord from the faded, peeling, off-white wall while unzipping my worn black cloth bag and shoving the items into it unceremoniously. I rezip my bag and swing it over my shoulder, opening up the window sill. I slide out onto the ledge, shut the window, and climb down the fire escape. I check my digital watch I found at the thrift shop. 6:27. I hike my bag up and start down the street towards the metro. I walk for 10 minutes, turning onto Main. I jog down the stairs, pausing to press my card to the reader and keeping my pace as I pass through the doors. I speed-walk down to the red line and hop onto the subway, flopping down into the plastic seat as the doors close and the subway starts moving. I push my black earbuds into my ears, moving my  somehow bright blonde hair further into my hoodie. I turn on Christina Perri's song, Distance, and wait for my stop.