Strength |✔️

eight

Alisha

I pop the pill in my mouth and quickly chug down water. It's been almost another week since I've been taking these pills, and I think I have been making progress.

And another week ignoring Neil. I feel bad though, and I should. I shouldn't have snapped at him like that a week ago; I'm such a bitch. Faith groans and wakes up as well. I quickly stuff the pills under my pillow, so Faith won't see.

"Hey, Alisha?" She murmurs. "What time is it?"

I look at the time on my phone. "8:05. Class starts in 25 minutes." She groans and stuffs her face under the pillow. I also feel bad for not telling Faith about the whole PTSD thing and the pills. Even though she lives with me, I feel like I should tell her. I don't know though: I don't want her to feel bad for me.

I don't even know what's wrong with my mind and how messed up it is, to be honest.

"I'm going to get ready," I say. She groans. I laugh and get a crop top and dark ripped jeans and trudge to the bathroom.

After I washed my hair real quick for about five minutes, I quickly wear my clothes and blow dry my hair. The crop top seems a little loose on me. I gulp. Have I lost even more weight? I stand on the scale and see my weight.

101, it shows. A smile slowly spreads on me. Well, the pills sure are working.

I don't have time to stall: class starts in twenty minutes and it's going to take me five to get there and I need to get there early so I can copy the stuff written down on the board. Yes, I am that type of student.

I apply a little bit of makeup so I look less dead and grab flip flops. I guess I look good? I don't care, really.

I check the time on my phone: 8:12, it shows.

Damn, I was pretty fast in the bathroom. I'll just stay here for about eight minutes. I open the door and see Faith, analyzing my pills.

How did she find those? My mouth gapes open. "Faith, h-how did you find those?"

She looks at me as if she's upset. Her pink hair is messy and her eyes have bags underneath. She puts her cigarette down as she speaks, "Ali, how the hell can you not tell me about this? Like, girl, you have freaking PTSD!"

I shush her. "Faith, not so loud. I'll explain, don't worry."

She snorts. "You better."

I sit down on my bed and cross my legs. I look at her: I can tell Faith anything. I mean, if I can tell Neil about almost my whole life and I don't even LIVE with him, then I can definitely tell Faith.

I speak. "Faith, what I'm about to tell you, you have to promise me you won't freak out, okay?"

She nervously chuckles. "Okay?"

I take a deep breath. "The truth is, my parents aren't together."

"Wh-what do you mean, Ali?"

I look at her in the eye. "When I was five years old, I heard my Mom and Dad arguing in the other room. I was playing with my doll and I walked over to the room and crept behind the door." A tear slides down my cheek. "I saw my freaking Dad point a gun at my Mom. Then, obviously, he shot her," my voice cracks. Faith gasps with horror.

I look down and my lips quivers, my voice shaking as well. I can't control my emotions, goddammit. "I-I-I saw my Mom, just laying there in the pool of blood, Faith!" I am full on sobbing now. "She looked so, so beautiful, yet so deranged in that blood. And... and I hate him. For doing this. For murdering her!" I wipe a tear.