In my school, we get to choose whether or not we call our parents to come pick us up when we get in trouble.
Of course, I choose not too. Surely, the school is going to inform my mother about this, but I don't mind. Hopefully she'll understand, but I have a strong feeling there's a no chance of that happening.
However, since I don't have my mom or dad to come drive me home, I have to walk. I plan on going to Taco Bell for lunch because my stomach keeps growling to be fed, considering the fact that my distasteful food was ruined over Angela's head.
I look up from the sidewalk that I'm walking on to see the glorious Taco Bell. I open the door, taking a step inside.
I walk up to the counter, placing my hands onto it, then changing my mind to cross my arms. I bite my lip, dropping my arms to my sides as I stare at the menu, making it seem as though I don't know what to get. In reality though, I get the same thing every time I come here. I'm just trying to give myself more time to order.
"Uh, are you gonna order?" I hear a scratchy, deep voice behind me. I turn around to see the source of the voice, setting my eyes on a short, chubby man wearing a wife beater with a large yellow stain on the chest and very loose gray sweatpants.
I turn to face the man behind the register, opening and closing my mouth as if I were a goldfish. I'm at loss for words, too nervous to speak at all. I know, I know. I just got into a fight that I chose to start, but yet I'm too anxious to even order food. I turn my head to glance at the fairly dirty man behind me, to see him staring at me with eyes so cold I start to shiver.
Wait, I'm not shivering. I look down to realize that it's my hands beginning to rattle, knees starting to tremble. I gulp, looking between the two people as they stare at me as if I've gone insane. My eyes begin to pool with salty tears, but I can't cry.
Why am I going to cry? There is nothing for me to cry about.
All it takes is a blink though, and tears have been pushed over the edge, running freely down my cheek.
I don't hesitate to walk out of there. Or, was I running? Yes, I am definitely running. I probably look completely foolish running down the streets as if I'm being chased by a madman.
I ran all the way home, not stopping for breath once. I rush inside my house, my knees buckling before I could even close the front door.
I slammed it shut out of anger, sitting with my back against it. I know my parents aren't home, they said they'd be back late.
I can't believe myself. I just can't. How could I act so ridiculous? Why couldn't I just simply order food like any normal person would.
Because you fail at everything you do, you always will.
"Shut up!" I yell at myself for thinking that, although it's probably true. I entangle my fingers into my fading red hair, yanking and tugging on it.
I begin to scream, attempting to let out anger, which only resorts to me rapidly punching my legs.
I cannot believe I thought I was letting out so much of this fury when I fought Angela and Evelyn. Nobody can comprehend this fiery rage coursing through my body, I can't seem to understand it myself.
You know the true way to let it all out... The only way.
I gasp, appalled at what I just thought of. I mean, yes, I do know it is the only way, and I always do think of that. But this time, it felt... different. As if it wasn't me telling myself that.
I sniffle as I stand on my wobbly legs, looking like a newborn deer. I trudge over to my room, using the wall to help me stay on my feet. I walk to my dresser-drawers, opening the top one. I shove all the underwear around, looking for the small black box.
