Cold ash

Chapter 2 - Nicolette

I tapped my pen to my note paper absentmindedly, glancing up at the projection for the lecture. It’s not straight. It needs to be straight. I jiggled my left leg up and down anxiously, and Doug put his hand on my knee, calming me down. I jiggled my right one thirty six times, to balance it out. What if my mother dies because of this?

Oh no, I thought of death.

You are alive. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive.

Phew. I exhaled heavily, and continued watching, my eyes trained on the same line of the board, reading it over and over.

The lecture eventually ended, and I got up, walking over to my professor.

“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, Doug appearing behind me. The professor turned back to me, many books and papers in his arms, his battered case beside the desk. He squinted at me through his round spectacles, his wrinkled face showing a slight confusion.

“Yes? Oh, Nicolette, it’s you. What is it this time?” He asked cheerfully, placing the books on the desk and pulling his case up onto the desk beside them.

“The projection was wonky again, sir.” I said, putting my notepad back into my backpack. The professor closed the case and took it off the desk, turning to me.

“Oh, I’m sorry Nicolette, I didn’t realise. Was it bad?” He replied, and Doug got out his phone, walking around a little. I shrugged.

“Not too bad.” I said, and Doug scoffed.

“Bad enough to make you anxious.” He said, putting his phone back in his pocket. The old professor looked a little guilty as he pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

“I’ll take greater care next time. But I’ve got to run, bagels are calling.” He said, smiling as he walked up the steps and out of the lecture hall. I put my backpack back on my back and sighed heavily, Doug walking back over to join me.

“You take your pills today?” He asked, as we started up the stairs. I counted under my breath, six on one foot, five on the other. I skipped a step to make it even.

“Yes, of course I did. The wonky projector would’ve been even worse if I hadn’t.” I said as we walked out of the doors and into the sunshine. He nodded in reply, his eyes following the back of our football team.

“True.” He said, his head following. I smacked him on the arm, and grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards the road.

“No time for checking out guys.” I said, as we reached the curb and crossed over towards the coffee shop. He sighed and flipped his blonde hair to the side as we went in. We ordered, and sat down on the sofas by the window.

“But I’m glad you’re getting your OCD under control now. Well, mostly anyway.” He said, smiling. I nodded, and pulled out my notebook, skimming through my notes.

***

I sighed, tapping the steering wheel as I waited for the light to go green. Street lights illuminated the streets along the intersection, and the late night traffic was less than usual. The light eventually changed from a glowing red, to a warm amber, and I put my hand on the handbrake, ready to go.

Suddenly, I felt something collide with the back of my vehicle, jerking me forward closer to the middle of the intersection. There was an awful scraping noise as a black car grinded along my driver’s side. I watched, mouth open, as the car scraped along my side and ended up in the middle of the intersection. I felt as if I wanted to punch the driver as I smacked my steering wheel, sending out a loud blast of sound at the car wrecker.

The driver stopped the car, and stuck his head out of the window. I saw him yelling to me, but I heard nothing. It’s three a.m. Of course. Drunk driver.

I got out of my car, and slammed the door, walking over to him, and thwacking him on the head.

“Look what you did!” I yelled at him, before going back to my car and inspecting the damage. The city isn’t generally full of traffic at three in the morning, but there still are cars around. I reached into my car and clicked the red triangle, making my indicators flash.

I walked around to the back, and found a wide array of dents and creases in the back bumper. I was horrified to find a long white scrape along the right side of my car. One on the right, not on the left. One on the right, not on the left.

“No! This isn’t right! This isn’t right!” I yelled, staring at the uneven scratches on my car. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I spun to see a guy’s face in front of mine, breath reeking of alcohol.

“What’re you so worked up about? Just a car.” He said, each breath smelling pungently of his drinks that night. I pushed him off me.

“I am worked up about there being a massive scratch on one side, and not on the other!” I said, glaring at him. He shrugged, and reached into his coat, pulling out a knife.

I backed away quickly, thinking of six ways he could kill me with it.

But instead of going for me, he stumbled around to the left side of the car, falling over the bonnet as he went, and made a horrifying noise on the other side. I clamped my hands over my ears, and walked around to see what he was doing, and found him scraping his knife along the side of the car.

He started scribbling with his knife, which didn’t particularly solve the problem. At least it’s semi equal now.

The car wrecker kept going, and I sighed, pulling him away. Glaring at him, I walked around to the driver’s side and got in, clicking off my indicators and starting up the engine. I drove away, navigating around his stranded car, and glanced in the mirror, seeing him looking directly back at me, very confusedly.

By Me, SummerBlues :3