tbh. || Lucas Jade Zumann

Chapter 8

Gaile

I go into the girls bathroom locking myself in a stall taking off my sweater fanning myself to try and let the heat escape my body.

It's so hot out, I thought I'd be able to handle it but it was worse than I thought. After ten minuets outside in this sweater, I was dying. I wish I could just take off my sweater and leave it off, but I know that would be a stupid thing to do considering the amount of bandaids covering my wrists.

Still sitting in the bathroom waiting to cool off, the bell rang for home room. I curse mumbling to myself putting the sweater back on the static from the wool causing my hair to fly all over the place.

I take my backpack getting out of the stall passing girls who gave me one look before whispering. I feel my anxiety get worse as I hear them giggle.

"It's like 3000 degrees out, why the fuck are you wearing a sweater?"

I look at them awkwardly pausing for a second; don't be the wounded animal Gaile be confident leave the wounded act to the people who can, "Because I—I want to."

They laugh as they look down at my arms and I could feel my chest ache, "what are you hiding?"

I panic and stutter over my words, "I'm no–nothing."

They giggle, "relax girl we're just joking." They leave the bathroom as I stand there feeling stupid.

I feel the anxiety only get worse as I replay the situation again and again in my head thinking of better ways I could've handled the situation.

The thought of my safety pin coming straight to mind. I shake the thought as I rinse off my face but as I look at myself in the scratched up  mirror I see my red wet face and I can't help but think of how much I feel look like an absolute joke.

So I give in, I always do.

As I slip back  into a bathroom stall, I lift my sleeves seeing my arms covered in scratches and cuts from wrist to elbow. I realize how in deep I am.

I can't tell my mom how I feel she'll make fun of me, she'll tell me to leave the wounded animal act to someone else. I can't tell dad, I can't even tell him I love him back.

I scratch the pin against my wrist roughly seeing the blood slowly seep through my pale skin. And I kept doing that as my shakey cries  and sniffs echo through the empty bathroom.

By the time I stoped my blood had begun to drip onto the school tile. I clean up my arm and floor with the schools tissue, putting bandaids on the fresh cuts and head to class thinking of an excuse to why I'm late.

...

It was lunch time before I knew it. I sat in the corner of the lunch room in my usual spot twirling my fork in the pasta; I don't feel hungry. I smell the pasta my stomach growls loudly. I cringe picking up my water bottle chugging it down instead.

I watch as everyone eats, putting their food in their mouth. And as if in slow motion I see them chew; I feel sick.

I get up dumping my untouched lunch in the garbage, I wasn't feeling well today. I walk over to the outside benches deciding I need fresh air.

On my way over I get light headed not sure if the heat is to blame so I take a quick seat on the corner of the steps tangling my fingers through my hair feeling overwhelmed.

"Hey."

I quickly fix my posture straight up to look less stressed than I do, "Hey."

I pull down my sweater sleeves my face burning up. I look up to see Lucas standing over me squatting down as if getting ready to sit next to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask trying to fix my messy hair.

"I could ask you the same thing, it's 100 degrees out and not to mention you're wearing a wool sweater."

I pull down at my sleeves getting nervous, "oh."

He chuckles, "so mind telling me why you have on your warm sweater in very warm weather?"

I start to panic the thought of the bathroom incident clouding my mind. I knit my eyebrows together as I begin to stress myself out.

You're being the wounded animal Gaile. Be confident...

"It's always a—a little chilly in the school so it works out perfect."

He nods, "yea, but it's still a bit much don't you think."

I chuckle nervously getting a bit anxious and dare I say annoyed with the amount of questions he was asking.

He scoots closer as we sit in silence. It's weird because it's a totally different silence when someone else is there because you know that a conversation should be happening.

"I feel like I'm supposed to be talking or something so can I ask you the most typical and boring questions I've got?"

I shrug, "yeah I guess it's better than nothing right?"

"Okay so what's your favorite color?"

I smile a bit covering my mouth to hide my crooked tooth, "green, I like green."

He nods smiling, "me too, okay what about favorite flavor popsicle."

"Popsicle?"

He laughs, "yeah I don't really eat ice cream or any dairy products  'cause I'm vegan, so popsicle?"

I think about it, the thought of popsicles and ice creams less appealing than it used to be. Even at the mention of ice cream or popsicle, I would've craved it all day until eating bowls, and bowls or even bars upon bars but now it's just a word. I came up with the only flavor I could at the time, it was my favorite.

"Uh—I'll go with Lime."

"I love piña colada."

We both chuckle for a bit him asking all of the typical questions anyone would before he repeats the worst question out of them all, "seriously though, why the sweater?"

My smile drops as I get get worried and defensive pulling my sleeves down, "I—I told you it's cold, in the school."

I feel a little anxious as he stares at my arms while I roll my sleeves down.

"Well you're outside, why don't you just roll up your sleeves or something? Or maybe we can sit inside?"

I panic as I feel an outburst coming on, "Ots fine, I'm okay, I gotta go."

I get up, leaving him on the stairs alone feeling regret right after which only lead straight to the comfort of my safety pin.