Altogether unusual

Throw some salt at me

'I need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life and start figuring out the one I have.'

Holly Black

I am running. And running. And running. I must have been in the gym for over two hours. The treadmill is crying beneath my feet. After I had finished up with my declaration at the police, and then the medical exam, I was off my game. All trembling and not wanting to talk. Like I really had to struggle to talk to my parents, and I didn't do a great job at it either. I know I should have gone to Jonathan. He was waiting for me. Perhaps he still does. But I couldn't find the strength in me to go there. I needed some time with my thoughts. And then some more time to be able to stop myself from thinking. After the medical exam my parents took me home. I was feeling like those clothes were choking me. So after I had removed them, I took a short shower and then started to draw. Like a mad person. I poured my thoughts on the paper. The sadness, the fear, the disgust. But nothing could take away the fury and the frustration. So I've let my parents know I'm gonna go out, I threw some clothes in my backpack and went to the gym. I think I've arrived here around 7. I lifted weights and punched the punching bag. I was tired, but somehow I needed more. So here I am, it's past 9, and I cannot stop running. There are maybe two other people in the gym. And I run. I cannot take today out of my head. People are judgemental. You should have seen the doctors, the way they looked at me when I removed my clothes for them to check me out. Furrowed brows, lips pressed in a thin line, piercing eyes. Like if I have so many tattoos, I must be a psychopath. Like Sherlock says, I am a high functioning sociopath. I wish I were that smart. But I'm not. I am simple girl who fell in a trap. Who cannot believe people can be so mean. After today I feel like I need to reconsider myself. My way of thinking. And I am not referring to my clothes or my tattoos. That's who I am. Whoever doesn't like it, well.....tough cookies. However, people judging my style reminded me about me judging Becca. When she wore pink at a rock concert, when she fucked her way through...anything I suppose. Oh, man! I did it again! What the fuck is wrong with me? What did that have to do with me anyway? That is the way she is, and there is nothing wrong about that, really. I should have started to be bothered when she had hurt my friend. But I couldn't, because I wasn't there for him when that happened. What about the time when I had criticized David and his friends for their way of doing music? Who am I to do that? I am listening to a lot of music. That is true. But I am not doing music. If I had spent more time on seeing who they were, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation now. God, I've been so fucking stupid! And I run. I want to stop this only when I have a solution to who I am. My legs are moving in a steady rhythm and my heart is racing. Beads of sweat travel down my neck, between my breasts and on my back. The music is blaring in my ears. I randomly ask myself how come my brain is not pulverized by it. Or maybe it has been. Long ago, and that's why I ended up being to fucking stupid.

I see a dark figure entering the gym, with the corner of my eye. I cannot be bothered though. This is a full time gym, reason for which I chose it. I can be here until midnight, and very early in the morning. Which serves me perfectly right, since I usually need to work out at ungodly hours. The figure, however, stops in front of me, asking for attention. I lift my eyes only to meet a pair of blue ones. The bluest blue, with small strands of green and almost yellow. Such strange eyes. I've never seen a pair alike. I want to see those eyes every day of my life. I want to be the first person they see every day. I want to see my kids having those eyes. Wow, wow, stop it! What the fuck? Kids? I must be crazier than I predicted.

I remove the headsets and get off the treadmill. My feet are like spaghetti, and I feel the need to lie down and die. Maybe I overdid it.

"You didn't come like you have promised." He says, and he cups my face with his hands. I can see he's worried about me.