We Fell Apart

Why can't we speak another language?

Song of the chapter:
Ellie Goulding - halcyon.
The lyrics in this chapter are not my own.
***
One we all agree on.

The soothing  sound of Ellie Goulding came from the speaker of my iphone, where I'd carelessly abandoned it on the charger. I carefully straightened the last strand of my hair and applied a thin layer of make up.

I spun around in the mirror and checked out my boring uniform. Drawbacks of private school. Actually everything is a drawback at a private school.

I sigh and study the unflattering skirt we were required to wear. I'd pulled it up and thrown on the navy blue school jerseys, making the outfit look like a high waisted skirt and sweater. I throw on a plain black blazer and thin stockings and give my hair one more pull with the brush lying on my dressing table and survey the room before me. The window seat had carefully placed pink and black cushions and was painted white. One wall had pictures strewn across from childhood till this summer. The recent ones consist of my mom and I, Angela and I lying on my bed pulling funny faces, photos of Kevin I'd snapped whilst he was unaware, my mom and Dray and various pictures of Jamie wearing different hats and attempting to hide her large breasts. I smile as I view the less recent ones, a few of Katlyn and I playing in my grandmothers garden as children when my hair was darkening and dirty blonde, a picture of myself sitting on a large black couch in my dad's New York loft. I'm shouting at the tv with food in my mouth and Katlyn had snapped the picture of me whilst I was unsuspecting. The older pictures featured my mom and dad holding hands and various pictures of all four of us sitting on a couch. Those pictures were professionally taken for a magazine when my mom had won businesswoman of the year , baby pictures of my sister and I- Two fair haired baby's. I had found all these pictures in album's and on my phone and camera. I'd worked for an entire day, printing, laminating and sticking them on my wall two days ago. The rest of the week had been spent redecorating the rest of the room. My king sized bed had more cushions sprawled across one side of it. I'd ordered them from Typo Australia a few months ago and then abandoned them in my walk-in closet. The cushions were carefully placed to make my bed look like a couch as it was now pushed to connect to the window seat. My other wall was a giant bookshelf. It consisted of novels, magazine's and books I'd read throughout the year as well as small objects I'd collected during travels throughout the years. My white wooden dressing table was covered in make up and perfumes as well as moisturising creams, bubble baths, shampoos, conditioners and other body and hair products. The white doors to my walk-in closet had been left opened to reveal thousands of pairs of shoes. I'd cleared my closest yesterday and given all the clothes away to charity and left myself with only essentials. Okay, maybe not just essentials.
I had left the wallpaper untouched, a pretty newsprint. I'd also polished off the paint on my one bookshelf, restoring it to it's original white and then vanishing it. I'd left the other ones black as I'd painted them a few years back. I'd also cleared out my white desk of all unnecessary papers and just left my Mac book on it.
Smiling to myself and taking one last look around I put on an old pair of unworn vintage pumps. I grab my white and gold handbag and walk downstairs.
On the table is breakfast for one that my mother had so lovingly laid out and a small white box with a card next to it. It was tradition that my dad sends a present that money couldn't buy before every semester. The point was to remind us that money didnt buy happiness.
I absolutely adored the gifts and the way my dad didn't need to show his success in objects.  The box was thin and long. It was white with a single black bow. I read the card first.

Difference is something many yearn to find. It's a gift we're all born with but only some of us achieve it effortlessly.

I read and reread the card.

Finally putting it down I smile as I open the box. Two locks of hair were placed inside it. If I had opened the box first I would've thought uhm gross but now I felt happy as I looked at the hair. I knew they were not my own, come on. But I'd allow my dad to cheat slightly and pretend that the hair was my own and he hasn't bought it. One of the locks was powder blonde, almost white whilst the other was a dark brown, almost black and both were close enough to my original hair colors.
I close the box and place it in my bag before eating my breakfast.
***

To survive the school year I would give each dull moment a song and play the song in my head until the moment was over.

As I stepped into the school hall the song I'm a bitch by the plasticines played in my head as I looked at all the "perfect children". I laughed to myself as I reached my locker and found Angela leaning on it, with a big, beafy blonde with his hand on the locker.

"Dean." I said with a laugh in way of greeting.

Angela looks up, grinning at me. She moves Deans arm out of the way and giving him a wink she tells him to text her. He disappears down the hall and she grabs me in a bone crushing embrace.

"Cute," I say thoughtfully, still in her arms. "And your age!" I tease and she lets go of me, gently swatting my arm away.

I take a good look at her and notice the familiar spark back in her eyes. I mentally sigh in relief as I notice the worst of the marks had faded into old scars. She sees me starring and smiles smugly.

"I'm too ugly for you to take your eyes off me?"  she asks with a cheeky grin.

Falling back into the old routine, I put my arm around hers, walking to our register class.

"Way too ugly, darling." I drawl.

"What about me can't you stand?" she asks desperately.

I eye her and with a thoughtful look respond, "Absolutely everything. Nothing you can fix, that's for sure.
***

I sit, tapping my foot impatiently.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. The thought fills my head repeatedly and I fight to gain control over my thoughts. My chest begins to hurt and my limbs stiffen in the chair. I need something to take the pressure off before my head exploded.

The lecture droans on about shit I already know and I feel myself loosing it. The unbearable feeling washes over me and I raise my hand. The teachers eyes meet mine and she nods her head, signalling for me to speak. "May I be excused?" I blurt in desperation. She eyes me up and down, concern taking over her pretty features. "Yes, Skylar." She nods and I quickly gather my handbag and rush to the bathroom. I burst through the door and sit on one of the toilets, taking my feet off the ground as I sit on the closed toilet lid. I fumble in my bag until my fingers brush over a small, box. I'm tempted to take out the cigarettes but the smoke might set off the smoke alarms. The maths class would be over in a few moments and I had study hall next, so I could stay here. I fumble in my bag, growing desperate and when I'm about to empty my bag of its books and make up, my skin comes into contact with a cold object.
Sighing in relief, I grab the flask and pop it open, placing the top of the black and gold flask on my lips just as the bell signalling the end of the lesson rings. I take a few more sips and feel the relief instantly flood over me. When I start to feel the familiar buzz in my legs and a certain amount of lightness in my head, I hop off the seat and walk the empty hallway to the study hall where I would drunkenly place my head on a table and sleep. The pressure of surviving a day, taken off by my tiny black alcohol filled flask.