Mixed Messages

10. Well handled

For a second Rikki just stands there, looking down at her port folio, then directing her gaze back on to me. When she is done giving me daggers, she bends down to pick up her art things. Normally I would help her, but right now I am just too pissed off with her, so I walk right around her and enter the classroom. As the door shuts behind me, I just hear Rikki mumble something under her breath. I rewind and and ask her, my voice dripping with attitude, "What did you just say?". But she just ignores me and flashes me a smug grin, then wlaks away, as she goes I hear her say sarcastically,  "Nice hair arseface". I watch her back as she leaves, her black hair swishing like an aggravated horses tail. I decide to ignore her. She will think she won, because she got the last word in, and yes, she may have won this battle. But one battle doesn't make a whole war. And believe me, she may think that I am just a shy, quiet girl who can't stand up for herself, but she is about to experience just how wrong she is.

***

The rest of the day isn't too bad. No paranormal powers or home shattering events in the afternoon, it seems all of that energy was surged into the morning. At the end of the day I walk home and just like the day before, I walk by myself, not having to walk with Rikki, and collapse on the sofa. Nowadays I have become a vegetable apparently, slumping on my sofa and watching Mortal Instruments. I don't know why but recently I have been watching it non-stop. My favourite part is the explaining of angels, and I don't know why. I set up the living room so that it is like a home cinema, and turn the film on. One hour and 55 minutes later, I am stuck for things to do. So I decide to do my homework and that is what my days and evenings are like for the next week. I drift around, occupying myself with mundane activities. I stop eating, shed a couple of pounds, my eyes lose their sparkle, and my hair begins to lose its platinum colouring (which my mum was not happy about when she first saw), and begins to darken, to become a dirty blonde. My mark is fading aswell, which probably has something to do with it, but I don't really care to be honest. So what if I look rough? What have I got to look nice for anyway? No friends, no family, and completely alone. Yay life.

The next Sunday I sleep in until twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and when I finally do make it downstairs. my mum is sat waiting for me at the dining room tabe, fully dressed witha coat on too, and a to go cup of hot chocolate in her hand, When I stagger in to the room, she smiles reassuringly and hands me the cup. I give her a questioning look, but take it anyway, and let the hot liquid slide down my throat. Next thing I know, I am being handed a pair of jeans, long sleeved t-shirt and a coat, and being ordered upstairs to get dressed. I am too groggy to question anything, so do as I am told, and come downstairs to be ushered outside and strapped into the car, still only in my socks. I am about to protest when mum hands me my favourite canvas shoes and starts the engine. 

We drive for a while, the small vibration of the car rumbling underneath me is enough to send me back to sleep, and I wake up when mum shakes my shoulder slightly and helps me out of the car. Half- asleep, I trip on my way out and mum catches me. When I stand up, I notice a sign infront of my face, which has a back drop of a corporate looking building, with lasrge windows and about five levels. There is a car park to the right, which we are currently in, and a seperate building to the left which also has sign post, which reads Reception. I try to crane my neck to read the first sign, but mum is already dragging me towards the smaller, seperate building. 

"Mum, what is this place?" I ask nervously, biting my lip, a nervous habit I have.

"Well, Cleo, recently you haven't exactly been... yourself, and here, they can help with that sort of thing." she says carefully.

"What do you mean not myself?" 

"I mean, you've almost lost yourself. I'm worried about you, and I want you to understand, that depression is a serious illness, it's nothing to be embarassed about." She turns and smiles weakly, and squeezes my hand.