Don't Come Back For Me

Hella Gay

       A harsh sound tore through the air as you leapt from your sheets, tumbling from your bed and banging your head harshly against your nightstand. To add on to the horrid experience, your phone fell from its place and smacked into your nose once again. Hissing, you raised your hand to your face, feeling a warm liquid pour from your nose. You threw yourself from the floor, stumbling slightly with the sudden motion, and wandered over to your bathroom. Your apartment wasn't the neatest, but you knew your way around, avoiding precariously stacked notebooks and textbooks. Just because school wasn't out didn't mean you weren't going to continue your studies.

       Your reflection looked like one from a horror scene, blood having poured over nearly the entire left side of your face. Your right hand found its way to the faucet while your left tried to rip a piece of toilet paper, bringing it to your face to wipe away what you could before your hands were cupped beneath the water, flinging warm droplets carelessly at your face. It didn't take long to clean yourself up, but there was a noticeable bruise beneath your eye, where your cheek and nose met.

       "First impression. I look like I got my ass dragged through hell then handed right back at me." Grimacing, you wrenched your eyes from your reflection, moving steadily towards your closet. A tight grey t-shirt and black skinny jeans seemed fit for the occasion. Laid back but serious. Your lab coat seemed a bit much, too showy, but you threw it over your arm anyway, walking back into the bathroom after grabbing a towel and fresh underwear.

       Once more, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror. The bruise was swollen slightly, a nasty shade of green already. With an anxious groan, you stripped of your only clothing and turned the knobs, watching water shoot from the shower head in awkward streams. You stepped in, nearly slipping and stumbling backwards. Your arms shot out and steadied you once again before you were completely beneath the liquid. With a heavy sigh of relief, your heartbeat returned to normal.

       "Daily actions are much more difficult under extreme stress," you reminded yourself. It seemed as though you were the only being who ever listened to what you had to say, to the knowledge you had to share.

       While you lathered up, using your best body wash and hair products, you hummed a tune. It wasn't anything too fancy, nothing you'd heard before, but the simple action calmed your nerves. "I think I'll bring the lab coat," you announced aloud, "for comic release." It was true you could be a grand comedian, though nobody believed you, nor did they bother to allow you to demonstrate. Most would simply shrug out of your way, not even glancing at you. But that never bothered you.

       When the world was being bombed and all the idiots ran, you knew who would be holding the controls.

       With a dark chuckle, thinking about all the destruction you could cause with your vast knowledge, you rinsed down. The water slowed and stopped altogether as you rotated the faucets yet again, walking out and toweling off. You slipped into your outfit, carelessly draping the white lab coat over your arm. You never emptied the pockets, everything you would need already placed in easy-to-access areas. It was always a surprise to many when you'd extract random objects. Many were serious, but the rest were for comedic release. Mostly for yourself as you found yourself too serious at times, too dark.

       You ran your free hand through your hair, setting it as best you could, though it was still slightly bedraggled. It didn't matter much, you looked better with messy hair.

       With this thought, you couldn't help but wonder what the individual was like. Yes, they were foul mouthed, but what else? Were they male or female? Young or old? Serious, humorous, or somewhere in between?

       The though of going to meet a complete stranger sent anxiety reeling through your very bones and you trembled slightly, regaining your composure quickly. "It doesn't matter. You have a job." You scolded yourself momentarily, staring hard at your reflection. With a quick once over, you looked up once again, "You look good." As if you weren't awkward enough, you clicked your tongue and pointed finger guns at yourself, laughing at your stupidity as you stepped into your black converse, ignoring the neglected socks haphazardly tossed over the back of your couch.