Trauma ➸ Audrey Jensen [1]

3 ➸ bittersweet

three ; bittersweet

♕

HARLEY

"Your total is going to be $2.50," the sweet dirty blonde told me, giving me a small smile. I returned the smile, handing her the five dollar bill I stored in my wallet. The girl entered a few things in the cash register, throwing the money in it and giving me my change. I thanked her, taking the money and putting it back in my wallet.

She asked me for my name, and I told her so she could write it down on the order to call out for. I smiled again, going to sit down on the couch. I had rarely ever came to the grind house, mostly because I didn't like coming outside. I had heard all the things about how this town suffered three murder sprees, and the pretty girl that just took my order was one of the victims, although I didn't know her name.

I fidgeted in my seat, waiting for my order as I bounced my knee up and down nervously. I hated being in public, because I always had a feeling that someone was glaring at me and judging me. Everyone always seemed to do that, because I stick out like a soar thumb.

It felt like all eyes were on me, as I hid my open scars under my sleeves. Sweaters is all I can wear, because people can't see the damage I do to myself. The damage that can't be stopped, or I'll go back to the real way I am. Violent. If I stop my meds, it will be a shit show. Treatments are the only thing keeping me somewhat stable.

"Harley?" That sweet voice called out, holding a cup of coffee in her hands as she smiled, looking around the room for me. I stood up, and then eyes really were on me. My smile faded, and I felt attacked. I stood still, and I felt like I was frozen. My eyes went wide, as the people's normal stares turned into judgment filled stares.

I forced myself over to the counter, grabbing my coffee, and turning away quickly. "Wait." I turned around, to meet more eyes. To meet more reminders of what I really am. She grabbed my hand, leading me to the back of the grindhouse. She showed me the back door, opening it for me. She was giving me an easier way out, so that I didn't have to face reality.

"I'm Emma, by the way. I noticed you were afraid, so I thought I'd help," she remarked. I was speechless, because nobody had ever been this nice to me. Don't you get it? She just pities you. She's too nice to watch you suffer. She doesn't give a single shit about you or your problems, but only pities you. Everyone pities you.

"T — thank you," I pushed out, and I didn't realize how much I was shaking until this moment. I never did well in public places, and this just proves why. Anyone that came around me would cause me to freeze up, and I could never be able to undo the things I would do when I was scared. Why did I think I could come to this place alone?

I gave her another forced smile, before pushing myself out the back door. I hear it shut, and I sighed in relief. It felt better being in the alley, because I was alone. I felt my body release the tension, and I felt the anxiety slowly start to fade the more I stayed in this isolated place. I was deathly afraid of being in public, but also of being alone.

My life felt bittersweet, sweet at first, but it was never complete without the bitter aftertaste that was always left with me. My feet began to move off the ground, as I began to walk toward my house. I made my way through the alley cautiously, afraid that someone would pop up. Afraid that anything could happen.

I made it to the front of the Grindhouse, where only a few people sat at the tables. To get to the road that would lead to my house, I had to walk through the area where all of these people were sitting. It wasn't much people, but it felt like a lot more than it actually was. I took a deep breath, starting to walk through the quiet area quickly.