My Life Being Dead

My Life Being Dead, Chapter 13

The next day being Saturday, I had even more time to plan. I set out what exactly I would say to Meagan, and what I wouldn’t say to Adam. I would have to avoid certain opinions and topics if I wanted him to stay unaware of what I was doing. I made an outline of everything I needed exposed and the dirty details I needed released and/or exaggerated. I even confirmed with my mother that my current plan of action was the most effective. She gave me the thumbs up to proceed.

When Monday morning came I had a smug smile plastered on my face that I was sure would give me away. I walked into home room ready to initiate phase one of my plan. “The Rumor”.

Leaning over, I whispered into a random nerd’s ear, “Did you hear about Melody and Marc?” Apparently both Melody and Marc are frequent topics of gossip, because as soon as I was correctly back in my seat, the nerd turned and told his friend, his friend told his friend, and it kept going until notes were being passed about the subject. I smiled to myself but made sure I kept it unassuming.

For a fact, I knew that no one assumes the unassuming.

I walked into the hallway and heard the names Melody and Marc being passed around at least eight times before I got to second period. Phase one complete. The rumor is spreading.

Lunchtime confirmed that the beginning of my plan had started, because Meagan rushed over and slammed her tray down furiously. “I can’t believe it!”

I feigned innocence. “What can’t you believe?”

She popped open her soda can and threw the tab across the cafeteria. It binged some girl in the head. “Marc is dating Melody.” She said her name like it was diseased. “She so doesn’t deserve him! And She’s totally cheating on Adam! Everyone knows they’re supposedly an ‘item’.” She did air quotes in the air.

I lowered my head to hide my smirk. “If only they both knew.”

“Ugh! I know right?? Then Marc would be mine for the taking and Melody would get ZERO hotness.” She sighed and sipped her soda thoughtfully.

I waited for it…

She practically spit her soda all over the table. “I could show everyone those videos! And tell them about this summer!” I thought I heard applause somewhere in the room but I ignored the thought because we were whispering quietly.

“Do you think you could find the tape?” Of course she could find the tape. She probably owned the tape and watched it to get off.

“Totally! I’ll look it up! Oh my god this will be perfect! I’ll show it at Melody’s party this weekend! Oh my god I’m such a fucking genius!”

Sure Melody.. While Melody prattled on about how wonderful her brain worked and what she’d do to Marc when he was hers, I was mentally patting myself on the back. Phase one was completed, and phase two, “Meagan’s Motive”, was done easily. Three more phases left. The third one would be a little trickier to pull off, however.

---------

I sat in my doctor’s office alone waiting to be called next. My monthly check ups were getting to be monotonous and useless. I felt better, I looked better, and I was better. But the doctors didn’t think so, obviously.

Some nurse called my name and I walked back into the triage area that I knew like the back of my own hand.

They took my temperature, blood pressure, pulse, asked for any new symptoms, and weighed me. I gained five pounds since my last visit. They were impressed.

I waited in the room for the doctor and took inventory of my abnormalities. My fingertips still tingled, but other than that I was healed. The doctors came in with a clip board in his hand and didn’t speak to me. I waited for him to address me but he kept studying my chart for about two minutes.

He finally spoke. “Mrs. Hutchinson, do you have a history of abuse?”

I was unprepared for his question, so my usual quick denial didn’t come fast enough. I tried my best to avoid this topic, but here he was just outright asking me, yes or no.

I tried to decompensate for my hesitation. “No.” I scoffed to show how ridiculous the idea sounded. The doctor looked unconvinced.

“We pulled your records from your previous practitioner and found something’s that troubled us. We just want to make sure you’ve gotten the help you need.” He put the chart down on the counter and looked at me directly. “When you were 10 years old, were you or were you not thrown out of a moving car, Cassidy?”

Flashes came in front of my vision as the horrible memories came floating back to me. I strained through my sight and attempted to hide my distress. “No.”

The doctor sighed.

I was keenly aware of the nausea rising in my stomach, but I forced myself to hold back the bile rising in my throat.

“Cassidy, you came into the hospital with eight broken bones and a concussion. If you weren’t thrown out of a moving car, you must’ve been thrown off a bridge. I just want to make sure you’re okay, emotionally.”

I exhaled slowly, steadying my nerves and making the memories comply back into my mind. “I’m fine. I feel better than I ever have.”

The doctor shook his head. “Did you go to a therapist and talk about your problems?”

I rolled my eyes slightly. “Yes.” My heart was slowing and my mind had stopped racing. I flexed my fingers and welcomed the tingles that had become my friends. “And I’m fine.”

The doctor smiled curtly and wrote something down. I hate it when they do that, write things down about you without telling you what. It’s so frustrating.

“Can we get on with the appointment, doc?”

He pulled some files from the chart and continued with the routine questions. The rest of the appointment went by as normal, and uneventfully.