Mercury

2°C

I slam the door shut as I burst into the school toilet. My fingers move around the lock frantically, and I realize that it’s spoilt.

Letting out a frustrated groan, I throw my backpack on the ground and sit at a corner of the toilet.

“Whatever, no one’s gonna be in school this early anyway,” I breathe. Running my hands over my backpack, I dig for the pen-knife.

After removing my denim jacket, I brace myself with the pen-knife in my right hand, ready to show off my art skills on the skin of my left wrist.

The toilet is dead silent, and my heavy breaths feel deafening to my ears. “It’s gonna be okay, August,” I whisper in a barely audible volume, “it’s the only way that you can distract yourself from all the shit that’s going on.”

The tip of the knife shines into my eyes under the lights. I don’t know why, but my heart is beating faster than it has ever beaten, and somehow, I’m crying.

Confused, I will myself to stop, but yet the tears still stream down like they’re never going to fall again. I sniff and try to catch my breath. You’re disgusting, August.

I properly position my pen-knife once again, determined to do it now.

Before I can do anything to my wrist, someone enters the toilet, and in that moment, the toilet is filled with complete silence. I can feel the stranger’s stare on me.

This carries on for about a few seconds until the stranger starts to speak.

“What are you doing?” whoever-that-is demands.

My pen-knife falls to the ground with an annoyingly loud clattering sound, which signals the start of an awkward silence in the toilet (once again).

My teeth chatter and my fingers tremble. I have no idea what to do next, now that my ‘secret’ is exposed. Well, technically, this is the first time I’m trying to cut myself, but I am not really ready for someone to notice me attempting to make a bloody mess out of myself just yet.

I lift my soulless eyes and lock them on the intruder. She isn’t exactly welcomed.

“I-”

Oh?

It’s a male?

In a female toilet?

I want to observe how he looks, but my idiocy is a step ahead. “More importantly,” I start, “What are you doing in a female toilet?”

He chuckles like I’ve just told him something that’s completely ridiculous. “No, more importantly, were you just trying to cut yourself?” he says.

I shift uncomfortably and run a hand through my ponytail, looking around myself.

“Well, I’ve got a pen-knife ready and a hell load of tissues here, so I guess, yeah you can say I was trying to cut-” “Wait, what?” I look up in surprise. His green eyes (yes, I’ve managed to observe his eyes) are no longer staring at me accusingly, but on the sign on the toilet door that very obviously means ‘Female’ (still staring accusingly at it though).

Yes, female, and female only, fellow unwelcomed guest.

“So I’m really in a female toilet…” he says, his voice slightly toned down. Then, as if a light bulb had suddenly clicked on in his head, he turns back to me, “Don’t cut yourself. That’s stupid.”

I roll my eyes and whisper a few ugly words under my breath while reaching out to pick my pen-knife up. Somehow, it no longer shines that brightly.