11:11 Time for the Chase

As long as you were okay then you were fine. Middle class, apathetic job, two boring kids, and one fucking dog who likes to bite the ugly mailman. As long as you were okay you would be financially sound with a fat and balding husband. As long as you were okay.

But I don’t want to be just okay. I can’t ignore all the problems like okay people can. I won’t be able to ignore the fact that my husband is a fat-balding-drunk-wife-beater. Neither could I be able to ignore that one child of mine is a pothead and the other one is the school slut. Or that I would rather fuck the mailman then my ugly husband.

To sum it up I don’t want to do what everyone else does. Go to school, college, meet some guy my parents like, and then get married for financial stability and then hate him in six years and then get a divorce. I’m not a dreamer. I’m not a philosopher. I’m a realist. And I’m not okay.

The girls that sit next to me in Mathematics Class are making small talk, all honest and happy. They’re actually doing their work. I observe them and I think to myself that I should be like them, content with my life and all that shit. All happy and pro positive, but I can’t seem to make myself talk to them, and I’m secretly wishing they would shut the hell up.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to push myself to be normal, to be okay, but I just couldn’t fake it. I hated my life, and it was all a lie. You could try your best to fit in, you know, fake emotion, be a poser, but I couldn’t fool myself. Like I said I’m a realist.

The school bell rings signaling the end of school. I rush to throw my blank notebook back into my book bag and walk out. Fresh air, something that seemed school always had a short supply of.

I’m walking down the dirt path faster then anyone else. I hope my dorm partner isn’t there. It’s not that I hate her, but she’s just like one of the girls from Mathematics Class, all happy-go-shitty. It’s suffocating and I much rather preferred being alone then being with people.

When I get near the dorm, instead of seeing an empty hallway with an isolated door at the end, I see at least fifty girls crowded around the door of our dorm.

They turn as they see me and give me death glares while I go through the parted crowd.

The headmistress meets me in the front of the door. She closes the door quickly but I’ve already seen in one quick glance. The pools of blood, the schools dress dark and drenched in blood, a very pale looking dorm partner.

The headmistress’s eyes are blue. Blue like a sea. Like A SEA OF death. That was my last thought when I hit the floor.

I wake up in the school hospital. I hate this place. It smells like death. The food makes you wish you were dead. The headmistress walks up to me. She reminds me of some heroic leader, but I know that deep down she’s just a scared little girl.

“Amaia, you’re up. Then I have no choice but to tell you what is going on,” she looked down at the cotton sheets that were wrapped around me.

“What happened to Aimee?” My voice sounded horribly hoarse.

She took a sigh, a random strand of her gray hair fell in front of her eyes, while she kept looking at he cotton white sheets, “Aimee, she committed suicide.”

I stare at her blue eyes, then her lips, “No… No! I don’t believe that! You’re lying! Why would she do that?”

I stand up rip the tubes that are snaked up my arms and run. Run away from this crazy woman who’s feeding me lies. I run towards my dorm, but my legs are shaking horribly. I’m choking on air, my vision is blurring. I fall, I can’t remember, maybe from a rock.