Fake Happy

Chapter 7 | Diphenyl Has Better Curves

"We're living like free radicals, destroying every rational chemical, we'll never hear through the noise."
- Free Radicals, Our Last Night.
● ● ● ● ●
Chapter Sept : Diphenyl Has Better Curves

It's been a week since I joined WoodWind and it's been comparatively good. I've been paying attention in class, excluding the sly remarks Jay and I keep passing in class before suppressing our laughter when Potato glowered at us.

Mrs. Hocking threw a fit because of what I did but she couldn't really complain as that meant her secret would be out. Don't think I missed the death glares she shoots me now and then.

I found Literature to be rather interesting and Mr. Gianni is probably the best Biology prof in the world. Go, Mr. G!

I surprisingly slept well for past few days, although I still cried. I couldn't help it. Until last night.

I shot upright in the middle of the night breathing violently as if my lungs had been crushed by John Cena. My forehead was trickling with sweat and I started to calm down little by little. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

I heard the voices again. I felt him on me again.

My body writhed involuntarily as if reminiscing each touch.

I'm sorry but I have no other choice.

Go back to sleep. Yes, let's count in Mississippi.

One, Mississippi.

Two, Mississippi.

Three-

Oh fuck this, we all know this doesn't work. It's just a stupid tactic which only confuses people in tanning centres. Yeah huh, that was a total Ross reference.

I totally forgot to take the tablets!

I grabbed some sleeping pills and gulped them down, drinking a glass of water which was warmer than normal. I don't know how it happened, but after a bit of tossing and turning, I was finally out.

I woke up with a bad cramp in my back and neck as I realised I'd fallen off the bed and didn't bother to go back up.

I mean, who the hell is even in their right mind to?

I crawled across the matted floor and hoisted myself up, using my study table as a support. 06:32. Seriously? There's an hour and a half for me to sleep and I'm up so early? Ugh.

Hey, Andrea.

Shut up, brain.

Remember that chemistry homework you have?

Nope.

And that essay you have to submit at the end of the week?

DONT YOU-

Ahh. I was a professional procrastinator, the greatest in the world. My brain knew better, it sent me warnings but I strayed away from them, except this time. I didn't have anything better to do, right?