Night Terrors [Frerard]

The Monsters That I've Been

I never really realised how uncomfortable the chairs in the office were. I had just been waiting for my mother to show up to discuss ''what I had done'' and ''what needs to be done to ensure that I'll never do it again'', but all I could think of was how the cushion on the chair did it no justice. I might as well have been sitting on metal. My spine was aching like hell, and though I tried to shift positions multiple times, I was left with a stiff body. I tried to get up and stretch every once in an awhile, but my legs have been feeling like jello lately. In fact, everything felt like jello. Mushy and half-solid with little composure.

The sound of a constant click against the floor roused me from my thoughts. The principal, clad in her violet heels and matching blouse, smiled in some twisted mix of welcome and irritation as my mother approached the front office. As she passed me, she shot me a glare that had what-the-fuck-did-you-do? written all over it. The look was gone in an instant, though, replaced by faux manners and a grin. She stood poised in front of Mrs Gravey, looking like a Smurf compared to the heels that put the principal on a pedestal. 

''Very nice to see you again, Mrs Way,'' she put exaggeration on the word 'again' as if recalling the times she was here for Mikey, ''Please, come with me.

She pivoted sharply before my mom could even reply, starting to guide her down a hall filled with offices. I stayed slouched in my chair, and I swore I could feel the structure of my ass and spine bend out of shape. The wait was torture enough, nothing but my thoughts as I sat awaiting suspension, detention, death in execution style... whatever seemed to satisfy both my strict parents and the school board. 

Deep down, I knew the worst they could do was expel me, and even that was unlikely. Maybe suspended for awhile (hopefully out-of-school-suspension), but even then, it wasn't going to be very long. My arms were way too weak to throw a proper punch that did any real damage and I had never caused problems before. I had other things to worry about. Did I actually care about getting kicked from school for awhile? I wouldn't have cared before... would I of? 

I gathered my knees against my chest, placing my head against them. With my eyes clenched shut, I almost felt like I was on a tilt-a-whirl; everything around me spinning faster and faster. I clenched and unclenched my sweaty fists over and over, hoping to distract myself from the feeling. I needed to shut my eyes, they hurt too bad to keep open for too long at a time. And, though my eyes were feeling less strained, I could feel my stomach drop. I felt like I was thrown from my tilt-a-whirl and onto one of those sky drops. I was high in the air when suddenly I was plummeting to the ground, my stomach churning and twisting and...

God, no. I had to stop before I threw up everywhere. I was sick of getting sick. I hated it. I hated how I could feel it in my nose afterwards, the way it made my throat sting, the shaking that followed the convulsions. Flu season was when this fear was usually present, but, right now, it was peaking. 

Before I could think any further on the dreaded topic, I was being called by someone. I jolted up, anxious to know what had been decided. Instead, I was met by Lindsey motioning wildly to me. I didn't want to get any further trouble, so I tried to do the whole 'mouthing words' thing, but she couldn't read lips, and, frankly, neither could I. 

She was leant over the front desk, sitting in a chair behind the desk. She gave a toothy grin as I finally gave in and approached her. 

''What the fuck are you here for?'' She yelled the moment I was on the outside of the desk. She seemed completely unaware of the fact she was in the most teacher-y part of the school, blurting out swears like nothing.

Today, she was in skin-tight black jeans instead of her usual skirt, but her lipstick nor boots were lacking. Her slightly low-cut shirt put her well-structured collar bones on display, a silver chain hanging around them, a small locket at the end. Her hair fell over her face as she beamed up at me, an eyebrow arched. ''Well?''