Book 1 in the "Unspoken Words" series. This is a short story in which every chapter is a short diary entry.
"And with that, she jumped."
~
After blowing out the candles on her birthday cake during her 17th birthday, Maya Greene takes her last breat...
Today was the first day of school. First day of my senior year at Evergreen high.
I hated it.
It went the same as it always did.
I woke up this morning with him fast asleep next to me in my bed. His bare and cold skin against mine was still like electric shock through my bones even though I had gotten used to it throughout the past two years. So was the unpleasant smell of alcohol he reeked of.
I gently lifted his arm that was draped across my bare stomach before I silently got out of the bed. I picked my clothes from the floor and locked myself in the bathroom where I stepped under the shower and let the warm water consume me.
As the exhilarating water ran down my back, I scrubbed every inch of my skin. Arms, legs, stomach, neck and face. I didn't leave an inch of my dirty skin unclean.
However, the longer and harder I scrubbed, my skin turned slightly red, but I still felt disgustingly dirty. I always would.
The harder I scrubbed the dirtier I felt.
After staying under the shower for an hour, I dried my hair, put on sky blue jean shorts and a white crop top that exposed my black bra. I spent another hour on makeup and putting on my fake eyelashes.
In total, I spent an hour every morning to turn myself into a rich, popular, fake bitch.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was gone, leaving my bedsheets reeking of alcohol. As always.
I pulled them off and threw them in the laundry basket along with my clothes he undressed me from last night. The maid takes it from there.
I ate breakfast alone and put on my helmet before I drove my motorcycle to school. It was a Harley. The only thing that had an important significance in my life. Dad bought it for me a month before he left two years ago.
I was fifteen back then so I had to wait till I turned sixteen before I could ride it. I still remember the night I turned sixteen. Just when the clock showed 00:00 AM, I had finally turned sixteen and gently pushed his naked body off mine before putting on my clothes and sprinted out of my room to the garage. And then I rode my Harley for two hours, just riding past random places, the city lights casting light upon the path of darkness before me. Despite have been broken all over again that night, I had never felt so alive.
Why dad left? I don't really know, I guess. He simply disappeared from my life without a reason.
And then mom got busier. Let me rephrase that. She made herself busier with work. She is always traveling abroad for her famous fashion business. I guess she needs something to focus on to forget the heartbreak dad gave her.
Apparently, that "something to focus on" was not me, but her work. She was more passionate about it than she was of me and over the past two years, I have learned to be okay with it.
Anyway
When I parked my Harley in Evergreen high's parking lot, I spotted my friends (cheerleaders and jocks) with Nathan by his white Audi.
Nathan Northwood is the only son of a rich couple and the captain of the basketball team. His blond hair and blue eyes, perfect jaw, athletic frame and charming smile always makes every girl drool, causing him to be a typical player. But his attitude, the way he feels superior to the other students and bullies them, makes many students sprint away when they see him or at least avert their gazes to the ground to avoid any sort of eye contact.
He and I are the richest kids in town and for some reason, everyone has always expected us to be together. Which basically means we aren't actually in love. We're friends though. He's very sweet and good to me and takes me on amazing dates, but there aren't any sparks between us. We both know it. We just have a sexual attraction to each other. I don't know much about love, but that's definitely not love.
We're only together because people expect us to be.
To him, I'm just a trophy he carries around him as a show off. But to me, he's my source to not feel lonely. Even though I practically don't feel anything when our lips are molded against each other every morning by our lockers or when we sleep together, I need him. He is my source to warmth. And the desire of someone's constant warmth, always brings me back to him.
In the end, I always go back to what hurts me.
But then again, maybe I'm just too scared to be lonely. Sincerely, whatever.
*****
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