Neither End Up Alive

Better Means Worse

Dash's POV

A week.

A week and three days have passed.

Pinkie should be back by now.

As it turns out, her ribs actually weren't broken. Just severely fractured. I don't really know what difference it makes. She got hurt, and now AJ is gone.

I thought that taking my anger out on somebody would help. I thought it would make me feel better. Maybe it did. Maybe at some point, I did feel better. But the reality of what I'd done had overwhelmed me too soon. Then AJ left me. So I didn't get better. Taking out my anger on someone made everything so much worse.

I hadn't gone back to school for three days. I was back at school for a week before realizing Pinkie should have been back.

I'm in my room, in bed, staring at the ceiling in misery. Tears of fear and loss mingle with sweat from my nightmares. I'm alone in my house. Mum isn't here. AJ isn't here. I'm alone with the horrible gape in my chest.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull my blanket over my head. I wish I would cry. I wish I could cry. But I can't. I'm too empty.

I think about that feeling I'd felt when I had beaten up Pinkie. That strange feeling in my stomach....

It wasn't regret. I know that. And it wasn't humor, either, even though I laughed. Was it...guilt?

I never feel guilty about hurting others. I didn't even feel guilty about lying to AJ. What is wrong with me?

The blaring sound of my alarm makes me flinch. I hold my breath and try to ignore it. I don't want to go to school today. I don't want to I don't want to I don't want to....

But I have to.

Even though Mum doesn't care and I have no friends, I have to go.

I throw my blanket in the ground and slam my fist into the alarm clock. I hastily pull on a black T-shirt and ripped dark blue jeans. I storm downstairs and into the kitchen.

I don't want to cook anything. I don't want to toast anything. I sigh and eat half a cold, dry bagel. I down a glass of water, then decide I'm not hungry.

I shrug on my bookbag and leave the vacant house, locking it behind me. I trudge along the muddy sidewalk to school.

I pass some people I know, but I don't look at them. They don't say anything to me.

By the time I get to school, my sneakers are filthy, but I don't really care. I go straight past AJ's locker to my own, my eyes trained on the mud flecks on my shoes.

Nobody speaks to me. I don't speak to anybody.

Of course, everyone knows now that it was me who screwed up Pinkie. Of course, nobody has told any authority because a) Pinkie has decided not to and b) They're afraid I'll beat them up.

I stop at my locker and stare at it for a few seconds. Why did I come to school today again?

I want to get somewhere in life. I want to be someone. I want to be important one day. I want everyone to love me. I want to get a degree in college. I want to graduate high school.

That's why I'm here.

I take a deep breath and open my locker. I stare listlessly at the red envelope that falls out.

It's smaller than the pink envelope I'd gotten three weeks ago. It looks like it's already been opened.

When I pick it up, I realize it hasn't been opened. It's just never been closed.