Lighter

s i x t e e n

thanks to you,
now i get what i w a n t . . .

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Before my degradation at sixteen years old by one insensitive guy who knew just the right ways to crush me, I was like any other teenage girl. Desperate for attention from boys, and sick of feeling like the only one who still hadn't had her first kiss, let alone her first boyfriend. The latter wasn't true, because there were more people who were in the same lonely, kiss-less boat as me, I just didn't realize it until much later in life. People tend to be good at lying about their personal lives, even in high school when you don't know shit.

Granted, I was a little different than the rest of the girls in my grade. I'd been taking my anxiety medication for almost two years at that point, finally somewhat used to the nightmares and panic attacks. Emphasis on "somewhat". I'd gotten past the point of crying and grieving every single day to where there were just random moments of sadness that would strike.

Still, none of this deterred me from wanting affection and a dumb, adolescent relationship. I was surrounded by kids who all craved the same things as me, but not all of them had to deal with what was going on in my head.

I remember when sixteen-year-old Savannah got the phone number of the boy who would ultimately destroy her in the end. I hadn't felt happiness like that in a long time, not since before my mother's passing. It was the kind of feeling I wanted to hold onto for the rest of my life. And unfortunately, that euphoria swallowed me whole, leaving me blind and blissfully unaware of what it would be like when that high came crashing down.

It was that feeling, the one that came after the smoke and mirrors cleared away, that reminded me why I continued to avoid romantic relationships all this time.

It had been fourteen days. Two weeks of having Ronnie's number in my phone and I didn't do a single thing about it. I never looked at it, never bothered to text him, and honestly never thought of it. I hadn't even seen him since that night. I just went on with my life like I didn't have his number in the first place.

All the December holidays passed, the new year celebration came and went, and the only other exciting thing happening was my twenty-first birthday on the very last day of the month. I had a couple days left of winter break, then life would be back to normal again.

On the fourteenth day of having that brand new contact in my phone, Jonah texted me with an invite to his band's practice. For a lame Friday night that was supposed to consist of me curled up on the couch with Aunt Farrah and Haleigh, watching sappy movies on Netflix and splitting a carton of mint chip ice cream, it seemed like a better idea to be going out with my friends. With Cheyenne at work until ten o'clock, she wouldn't be tagging along in the casual hangout, and that almost gave me the incentive to tell Jonah I couldn't make it. But when he hit me with the triple text, begging me to come with an overload of crying faces, I physically couldn't type out 'no'.

So I ended up getting myself ready, makeup on and second-day hair a little messier than usual. With my tried and true chunky boots, black jeans, and bomber jacket on, I was ready to go by 7:45. It was fifteen minutes later than when I initially wanted to leave, since where they were practicing was about forty-five minutes away from Tatum Hills, but if I left immediately and didn't hit any traffic, I'd make it there on time.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs and stopped in the opening to the living room, my sister and Aunt Farrah looked my way. They were buried under each of their blankets, spots claimed on the couch with the title screen to a movie on the TV. Once they saw I was dressed with a satchel dangling from my shoulder and my car keys in my hand, disappointment altered their faces.