The Storms Of August

Chapter Twenty One: Don't Know How To Tell Ya

I stormed into the bleach scented bathrooms, my mind running wild and tears falling freely down my hot cheeks as I held onto the white tiled wall. How could he? How could she? Thoughts intercepted thoughts while I hyperventilated. What I was putting out wasn't returning fast enough and I felt like I was suffocating with air in my lungs. I do not cry often, at least I didn't have much of a history with it, so I have not mastered subtle agony yet. Every heave in my heart sent waves through my body as I cried out. I was alone, but from the outside it might sound like a pack of hyena's with heartburn.

I spot the grey sinks and put the closest one on a cold rush before diving my hands under and slashing myself a few times. On the final time, I push the spaces between my fingers into microscopic escape routes and rest my face under the shallow puddle. If I held my breath long enough I could pass out and hit my face on the counter. Then I could spend my vacation how normal teens spend it: asleep, at peace, without worry until the final Sunday before the morning bell rings. But I don't. Even when I'm angry and upset, more than I've ever been because of my boring picture perfect life, I want to feel. I'm so used to being neutral that highs feel like mountains and lows feel like the bottom of the sea. It's only now that I'm discovering the God and the Devil both crawl under my skin. They say life is a roller coaster and I've been on the kiddie rides for far too long. I have only felt the unconditional love of parents. Never the heart wrenching realization that love is made of porcelain. It's only now that I am dreaming of clouds in the sky and feeling the hurricane swoop them into a nightmare.

I open my fingers and let the water fall down the drain with the high pressure faucet. I turned off the sink and just stared into the metal circle at the bottom until the door burst open.

Demi, with panic in her eyes, scans the line of stalls before locking her gaze with mine. The second she saw me, crying as I leaning over the white fixture, she turned around and slammed the red door shut behind her, locking it soon after. I didn't understand why, but I didn't care to ask. Once that was done, she wiped her hair out of her face and rushed to me. When her arms opened in quickly striding to me I refused, no matter how bad I wanted to walk into them and just let her presence wash the illusion of calm over me, I couldn't. I was angry at her and Joe alike. Her smell would persuade me away from her.

When I walked away from her attempted embrace, Demi had a hurt look on her face. The tight muscles in her face shifted downward and her eyebrows sagged at the tails. Her eyes bore the color of hot coffee, steam still gliding across the surface of her emotional orbs. She was defeated. In response, she slowly walked forward and stopped inches away from my hunched body, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said in a sympathetic voice.

I looked into the mirror, blinking water droplets from my eyelashes and finding her looking at me through the reflection. "I don't believe you."

"What?" She scoffed in utter disbelief, her eyebrows and freckles scrunching on her face.

"I don't believe you, Demi. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because that isn't how it works!" I shouted with tears in my eyes, jolting up and facing her. Her fusion and natural gravity were powerful, but I ignored the burning of her brightness and powered through it. "I can't believe you simply because you're my friend! I can't just throw my relationship away because you told me it was one sided. He's my boyfriend, and he's been that for months now."

"I never asked you to throw anything away. Not once," Demi said angrily. "You're my-. You're my best friend, August. I can't let you be hurt like that. I know how it feels."