Damaged Beyond Repair (Student/ Teacher) ✔️

Chapter 5

"Have you by any chance gorked out of your brains?"

"Why?" I asked Nina while I wrote my English essay due the next day.

It had been a week since I last met Mister Vogue cover in the park, I thought mentioning any of that to Nina would only cause melodrama and endless gossip. I could pass on that one.

"You can't be writing some shitty English essay when you have five goddamn chapters to study for economics. You gotta have a serious death wish if you think you can pull that off within a few hours, woman."

Oh Crap!

"Don't tell me the test which he mentioned last week is tomorrow."

"Yes it is."

I slammed the book shut and rummaged in my bag for the economics textbook.

I was a major goner.

We studied the chapter glossaries and other stuff which were likely to show up in the test; so far we'd only covered two chapters. I stayed up until two in the morning, without bothering to eat much during dinner. I felt agitated, nervous and jittery all the same. I thought university was going to be fun, it's what the pass outs drilled in your head when you were in high school. That was a freggin' illusion. This was a worst case of out of the fire and into the frying pan. Irony was a bitch.

My mom made sure I wasn't getting time to breathe so I wouldn't even bother to ring her up or disturb the eerie peace that they enjoyed so much. No wonder that woman was so excited while I applied for Carmel. Who needs the kind of mother if she doesn't need me? So long as the college bills were paid. I was good. I almost snorted at the sudden memory that poked in my head. It was shortly after I'd unpacked my luggage in the Carmel dorm.

"Did you settle well?" My mom had asked with her usual fake enthusiasm.

"Yeah mom, I did." I refused to pour details.

"Good."

"Chez was the one who helped me with all the paper work and..."

"We'll transfer more cash into your account once daddy gets time off, okay, baby?"

See what I mean, when I say she doesn't give a hay?

"Thanks mom."

"Sure baby, uh—"she continued, "Listen Alana, I need to get going. I'll call you later?"

"Sure mom. Say hi to dad for me."

My father was the only person why I still spoke to this woman. I know what you're thinking.

Nope. She's my real mother.

None of it mattered to me anymore; I made it a point to ignore the burning ache that flared inside in my chest, suffocating me. I never spoke about it to anyone, not even Chez. My mother lived in a world of misconception, thinking money could buy her only daughter happiness. I hadn't once doubted her so called love for me, until one day during grade nine, when a school bus skidded on the wet roads resulting in a life threatening accident.

Chez's parents were more worried about me then, my mother ever could be. His mother brought me chicken soup and everything else my mother was supposed to do. My dad cared, alright, but his case and his court drama never left him much time for me. That wasn't his fault.

There was a part of me that envied Chez just a wee bit. He wasn't wealthy or couldn't afford the best but, seemed to have everything I could ever want.

Everything I dreamed of having.

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