It seems to be more often that I am waking up drenched in sweat and trembling. That same nightmare seems to repeat every single night. However, tonight was different. It was more vivid. As if I were there again. I push my thick comforter to the side and slide out of bed. The floor is bone chillingly cold as always. Which always tempts me to recoil back into the warmth of my bed. I steal a quick glance at my small bedside clock. 5:42 a.m... Too fucking early. I shuffle past my cat, who is staring at me lazily.
When I see my reflection in the mirror of my bathroom, I grimace. I want to turn off the lights. I have my father's oval face, olive skin, and full lips. And I have my mother's round green eyes, long curved nose, and untamable dark brown curly hair.
On my face they are still together.
Old relatives constantly reiterate that I am a reminder of my "Worthless, asshole, piece of shit father". What a joy it is to see them every goddamn holiday.
I turn away from my mirror, full of regret for even daring to look at it anyway. My showers are always either too hot or too cold. I need to get it fixed but that would take a lot of money. Of which I have been running low on lately. A couple of months ago I started the night shift at a local super market and I have since grown accustomed to the late night inappropriate touches from my manager who knows I need the money.
This morning the shower was too hot.
After a couple of minutes my senses become adapted to the steaming water. An embrace. A warm embrace. That's what the water feels like. It resembles body heat from your lover in the middle of the night when they are holding you so tight that you can feel their heartbeat thrashing into your back. I have no idea what it feels like to be held like that. I have only heard stories about it from older women who seem to be over exaggerating. So how should I know if this is true or false?
I turn the shower handles until the water is no longer beating down on my already pink skin. I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around my body and hurriedly brush my teeth and wash my face.
When I am finished I hobble around my room trying to find something presentable enough for school. All the while my cat, Indie, is watching me, dazed. She does not care to move out of the way. She enjoys making my mornings harder.
I am still drying my hair by the time I find something to wear. Once I am as presentable as I will get, I walk down stairs to the kitchen to see my mother sitting at the kitchen table still in her night robe, drinking coffee, and reading the morning paper.
She raises her head simply to scowl at the sight of my presence. Then she goes back to her morning paper.
It's not like I expected anything different.
My mother hasn't talked to me since that day. She had cried a lot afterwards and she wouldn't come near me, let alone let me near her. When I speak, she ignores me. And when I leave, she pretends as if I were never there to begin with.
As I turn to walk back upstairs to get my backpack and such, Indie sashays down the steps as if she is the queen and she owns the place.
I almost let out a chuckle. Almost.
While waiting for Queen Indie to finish her royal walk I remember my backpack is already downstairs, along with my shoes. I quickly turn and jog down to fetch them. When I approach them I slip on my shoes and throw on both straps of my backpack and then whisper a goodbye to Indie. And she nonchalantly ignores me. I smile.
The walk to the bus stop is usually slow and quiet. No one else on my street rides the same bus as me so I am usually by myself. Also I don't ever really talk to anyone. So even if someone were to ride the same bus as I do, I probably would still have no one to talk to. Because no one ever makes an effort to have a conversation with me. And that is probably because anyone who tries to start a conversation with me just recieves a blank stare in return. Usually because I'm trying to figure out if they're being truly genuine, they are new, or they are just trying to make fun of me.
You can probably already guess how many friends I have.
So most days I am by myself from the time I wake up in the morning to the time I go to bed at night. Except for Indie. Or whenever I have a shift at work. But, today was different.
Particularly different.
It's when he showed up.
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When India met Ivory
Teen Fiction"The first time I saw you I knew I was fucked." -Ivory
