Unhinged » murder ff

Chapter Fifteen

 Months had passed since the seizure incident. My father was currently in the Hospital, apparently in a coma. I don't know if I had caused it - truthfully, I didn't care to find out.

I had returned to school as well. It was a horrible process - my Mom begged me to stay away from the kids at school, in fear I'd cut loose on them. But what was the real problem? Did she honestly think I'd kill in public?

I was finally fourteen as well. Of course, still younger than the people in my group. Grayson was seventeen, Matthew and Cedric were eighteen - and Ashley was a few months older than me, but she was still fourteen.

Today marked the first day of school. The principal, Ms. Rainey, had been suspiciously looking at me. I thought I caught the words ''dead eyes'' as I walked away, but it didn't matter. Nothing in that wretched school did. Truthfully, I'd only come back because I needed more social tendencies. I was much too antisocial and emotionless - maybe the middle school drama would get me back up on my feet.

I was still at the base, which is basically where I lived at the moment. It was six o'clock in the morning, the time my brain was forced to start functioning, which was tragic to say the least. I got up and sighed - no sleep, once again. It didn't really surprise me anymore. Grayson still yelled at me when I woke up most days, saying the purple bags under my eyes were no help to how I'd been acting recently. But Grayson would still be asleep when I woke up, and gone most times when I got back. I never went straight home - I always ventured off to steal a newspaper and sit ritually on top of the abandoned Gucci store, thankful for whatever still held up the ceiling.

'' You're serious about the whole school thing, huh? '' I heard a soft voice say from my doorway, which forced me to look over at the speaker with tired eyes. It was Ashley - her face was full of worry; she was always the emotional one. I shrugged.

'' It'll get me more social. Besides, it's not like sitting on my butt all day does me any good in the business, '' I replied in a hoarse voice, thinking of all the new people that must've been at school. I left in 5th grade, and three years could've had a big impact.

Ashley shook her head at me. '' One day, you'll feel something. I saw the emotion in your eyes for the first time when you were freaking out a few months back. It seems like your Dad is the only subject that can strike up-''

'' -did you come in here just to talk about my feelings? '' I interrupted her, getting irritated. She sighed.

'' No. I came in here to try and wake you up. I thought maybe you'd gone to sleep - turns out I was wrong. I'll see you when you get home. '' she said quietly, turning her back on me and going to her room, shutting my door to let the darkness consume me in my own room. I growled deeply in my throat - why did everyone have to worry? I was completely fine handling things on my own.

After scanning through my closet and picking out a black polo, black jeans, and black tennis shoes, I threw on a dark red oversized sweatshirt and flung my backpack over my shoulder, silently slipping out of my room and towards the door. Shoving my handprint into the glowing blue screen of a neatly shaped hand, the thick metal door swung open. I had no need to wait for the bus - it wouldn't take me that long to walk. So I did.

I listened to the thunder, calming me down from the anxiety that was creeping up on me from my childhood. Surely I didn't think going to school would make me more social, it said to me, clinging to my back. I'd have more people to manipulate, other than poor innocent little Grayson; the anxiety cackled into my ear, and I shrugged it off, listening to the hissing of the smoke as it disintegrated into the thin air.

As I reached the all-too-familiar giant, brick building, I huffed and walked inside, opening the Gym doors and blinking dazedly as the lights in the room bored down on me, my lack of sleep flashing like headlights in the darkness that I'd gotten accustomed to.

I remembered where the eighth grade bleachers were - nobody had to remind me as I walked in, looking tired and out of order. I made my way over to the purple bleachers, walking up the metal steps and sitting by myself on the third row from the top, not bothering to look up at whoever was sitting there. They didn't matter to me.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I pulled up my messages with Brooklynn and lingered, deciding not to text her after much contemplation on sending a greeting. Instead, I messaged James, telling him I'd decided to go back to school. He read it immediately, sending me an excited ''Good job!'' text with a heart and a smiley face. I felt nothing - maybe a small flash of warmth in my chest, but that was it.

As I felt a tap on my shoulder, I slowly looked up, seeing a curly-headed mixed girl with irritating brown eyes. She looked...unfriendly. She smiled at me - I felt my annoyance and hatred growing for her every passing second. '' Hi, '' she smiled, and I tried to look away and ignore her, but she kept talking. '' I'm Hailey, '' she introduced herself in a scratchy, forced-friendly voice. It made me cringe. '' Who are you? Are you new? ''

'' No. '' my voice came out smoother than when I'd woken up, and was full of distaste. She seemed to notice, because she hesitated with her answer.

'' So...you've been here, but moved back? ''

I nodded.

'' Do you hate me? '' She asked after I tried to look away again, and I huffed.

'' Maybe I will if you keep bothering me, '' I growled, and she flinched, looking away. Finally, after a few seconds, I caught her glaring at me, and irritation flowed through my veins, boiling down to my fingers, which curled into tight fists.

I decided to leave it alone - I couldn't get into a fight on the first day. So I texted James for a few minutes, until someone roughly shoved themselves into me, giggling and laughing with their friends. I turned to see who it was with my mouth open to yell at them, when I realized who was sitting next to me. It was Brooklynn, her hair neater than usual and her lips curved into a wide smile as she talked to the short boy from the gangsight, Jordan. She wore a pink, long sleeved jacket and khaki pants, with black Nike shoes. She glanced over at me, smiled, and turned back to Jordan.

I tried to ignore the fact that her leg was pressed against mine the whole time, or that Hailey's knees were stabbing into my back. I was too focused on my messages with James, quickly slamming my thumbs into the letters on the phone to distract myself.

'' Hi, '' I heard again, and only got more annoyed, deciding not to answer. '' You must be Jae, '' the girl said, and this time I looked up. She was dark skinned and had her hair tied back, a purple headband on the very top of her forehead. Her face was intimidating; she wore a purple silk jacket, a black polo, black jeans, and grey Nike shoes. Her dark brown eyes bored into mine, and I nodded. '' I'm Majayla, '' she introduced herself, and I hesitated.

'' Nice to meet you, '' I said quietly, uncertain about making friends on the first day. I couldn't let myself get attached to anyone I met if they'd only drag me down. '' How did you know my name? '' I asked after a few seconds passed of us just looking at each other, and she smiled a little.

'' I'm friends with Brooklynn. '' Majayla said, and after hearing her name, Brooklynn turned around, saw Majayla and laughed, smiling widely. Majayla smiled back but then immediately turned to me. I felt shy under her gaze, but also as if I had to look back.

'' And how does that lead you to knowing who I am? '' I asked, tilting my head and letting my eyes fixate themselves onto Majayla's. She smirked as if she was amused by my accusations of her uninvitedly knowing my name.

'' She talks about you. Not much, she only ever mentions your name and what you look like. So when I saw you, I just had to assume. '' her voice was friendly enough.

And then I heard a loud bell ring, and people began to stand up, exiting the bleachers. I caught Majayla's eyes again - she nodded at me, and I felt my chest tighten and my lungs struggle to take in air. It was a while before I realized I was holding my breath, and as I drew in thick, hot air that smelled like teenager-sweat, I coughed a little, feeling around my pocket for my inhaler. I drew in the cold, fresh air that was stored in the metal container and sighed in relief before following the eighth graders down the bleachers.

Maybe I had one person to rely on. Maybe.