The Beginning of the End

IX.

breathe dude. for this chapter, if you're really into the story, you'll need to practice your breathing.

warning: some pretty severe violence that will fuck you up

"Explain, dude. What the fuck happened back there?" I asked the weekend after I saw some borderline sex going on between Timothy and someone who I thought was my girlfriend.

Having to recall these events was honestly pretty painful. I stared straight ahead as Florence took the wheel. We riding between some lush green and rocky hills in the Central Valley. A lake lay towards our right as we drove south, past healthy green oaks and plains filled with dying flowers as winter approached. 

December had arrived, and I could sense the death around us. The earth was dying, and so was my hope that the conflict we were having in that moment would ever be resolved. I was already losing hope before anything even happened.

I could remember the vivid image in my head like it had been yesterday. Timothy beneath, Florence on top, riding him like he was a horse. If they had been naked, I would have lost my shit. While the two remain distracted I had gotten in my car and drove off like hell, and only then did they take notice. I saw them in the rearview mirror, having jumped as if shocked my electricity as smoke came out from the back of the car.

That night during dinner, I didn't talk. I didn't participate in prayer. Since it was just me, my mom, and Georgia, it was silent without me bringing up conversation worth talking about. For a majority of the time, I sat there blankly as we ate our mashed potatoes and cut turkey slices for ourselves in absolute silence.

The thoughts came rushing back to me, and thinking about the blade and putting it to my skin terrified me. I knew that no matter what happened and no matter how much pain it would cause me, I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.

The following week, I didn't even go to school. The weekend following passed, and I sat at home thinking about it. When I returned in the middle of the following week, I confronted Florence after our first period that we shared together. Luckily, the seating chart had been rearranged and we no longer sat together.

When we had held hands beneath the table and sneak kisses when the teacher wasn't looking. The time when things were normal and almost surreal, but I honestly wasn't arguing about it ever happening. I just really, truly missed the company of her and how she gave off an aura of happiness that I now viewed as an aura of dishonesty and possible hate.

Did she hate me?

"Saturday morning, pick me up. We need to talk about some serious shit because honestly, we can't go through life without talking about this." And despite the awkwardness we shared as I grabbed a handful of her sweater, she bit her lip and nodded.

"Fine. Is eight okay for you or too early?"

"Perfect," I said before she rushed out of the room, clearly scared out of her mind and obviously wanting to avoid me.

During lunch, her friend group came as I sat back against the lockers. All I had was an empty water bottle by my side, staring at the newly erected poster reading: "WINTER BALL: DECEMBER 17! TICKETS ON SALE IN GYM STARTING AT $7 FOR SINGLES, $10 FOR COUPLES!"

The mere thought of reading the word "couple" sent a shiver down my spine, eventually reaching down my toes.

When I threw a brief glance at Florence, my heart erupted into flames. Flames full of rage and hate and envy and whatever negative feeling you threw at me. Dinah and Heather formed a semi-circle around her and Timothy, clearly locking their fingers.