Every Breath You Take

Every Breath You Take

Your words still serenade me; your lullabies won't let me sleep. I've never heard such a haunting melody. It's slowly killing me. I can barely breathe

Savanna

~

 I was lucky. That was something I had to be proud about myself. I had luck. I didn’t quiet know how I obtained this skill; it just happened. I had charm, I had luck, I could twist fate my way. It made my life that little bit easier. Alright, occasionally things didn’t exactly go smoothly for me but that wasn’t very often I was glad to say. Yet today; it was as if luck had decided it no longer liked me. Like an old best friend who’d gotten fed up with the same old thing. After much contemplating luck had finally left my side. If only I had been kinder to dear luck, one day I had it. Another I didn’t. I noticed it today for sure.

In Brandon’s car, seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. I tried to sit as still as I possibly could. But the fact that as each second passed I was becoming later and later made me want to fidget. I attempted to occupy myself with trying to fix my mobile phone. Not that I actually knew what the heck I was doing. Dad would kill me. On the other hand; he’d probably just buy me a new one and get back to work. Would I actually prefer it if he flipped and refused to buy me a new phone. I sighed. I shouldn’t moan. Dad earned a lot, yes he broke his neck trying to earn it, but I could be worse off. I sighed, yanking off the back of my phone. “Babe, that won’t make a difference. Your phone is busted.” Brandon stated the obvious. I had an urge to slap him, but of course, I wasn’t planning to.

“I know.” I slide the back into place before resting my elbow on the ridge of the car door frame, “Could you drive any slower.” I grumbled.

“Does it look like I can go any freaking faster?” Brandon snapped.

I probably should have walked, burnt off calories. If I had I would have been at school by now. Maybe I should just get out and walk the rest of the way. I glanced out the window, before scrapping that thought. I pulled my knees under my chin and turning up the heater.

My late arrival into school was not condoned. Sure; Brandon was always late and whatnot. So he was use to the killer glares the teachers sent your way and the late marks in the register and the way the secretary treated you when you signed the list of pupils that had arrived that little too late. I, on the other hand, was not. I slid into my next lesson as quietly as I possibly could. But I didn’t get at all far before I was caught.

“Ah, Miss Wilson, you finally decided to join the lesson.”

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t want any more eyes to be on me. Not that that was even possible since the whole class were looking at me. I struggled and tripped over the legs that blocked the way to my desk. I finally reached it without breaking my neck might I add. I pulled a face at Claire who gave me a frown before I sank into my seat next to her, “Why are you so fucking late?” she hissed, her eyes on the board.

I buried my face in my hands, “It’s a long story.” I sighed, pulling out a fountain pen from my bag and snatched a piece of paper out of Claire’s folder.

“You look like shit.” she commented. I rolled my eyes, continuing to scribble down the notes she had taken before in my messy handwriting.

“Thanks for noticing.” I muttered sarcastically, running a hand through my hair, attempting to tidy it slightly, “I woke up late. Things are just a bit…” I searched for the right word, “Hectic. Since Mum walked out.”

Mum had an affair. She didn’t have standards, I could say that much. An affair. With a boy. He had barely even got out of school. Almost twenty five years his senior. Sure, it wasn’t illegal, as he was nineteen, but still. I refused to even have an ounce of feeling for her. When she begged me to come with her when Dad and her got a divorced, I refused. I was not going to move and live with her. She may be my mother, but I didn’t want to be involved with her. I couldn’t forgive her for what she had done to Dad. Dad was so good to her. Yet I was struggling through her absence. Dad was hiding it very well, yet his hours at work grew longer. Margret had become almost my mother as her hours grew longer too. But I refused to move with her, I had a life here. Sure, she’d ruined hers. I wasn’t going to let her ruin mine also. So I stayed.