not okay {ziam}

two

{two}

that same smirk i saw yesterday

-

the next day, i jolt awake in the shed of my father's garden that i slept in. it had gotten a little cold during the nights due the gaps in the wooden panels, so i woke up with my throat tight and icy sweat dripping from my clammy neck. my mind was ceaselessly racing with gruesome dreams of burnished colors and the smell of embers, trying to grasp onto my surroundings. sometimes i forget where i am and how i even ended up in my bed with no memory of anything.

i search for something to calm me, my ribs piercing through the skin of my stomach as they raise and fall in fear, quivering my eyes closed -- i see champagne colored hair and pale eyes as if an angel had possessed me momentarily. my body involuntarily fills with solice, mandy.

my bike peddles along towards my school, utter guilt drenching me at the thought of what i had done yesterday. would i arrive and curl into myself out of the sheer intimidation i felt, and then receive a harsh slap across my face from the girl i had been in love with for months now? would it feel divine to have her hand touching my face, even if she was repulsed by me?

my mind traces back to the first time i felt my heart flutter at the sight of her, it had been at a low point of mine with formidable isolation and loneliness. i had been wordlessly rejected by someone in the past — but, then i saw mandy twinkling like a star in a space of nothingness and every part of my body entwined itself around her skin like a silky web. i had felt protected in her presence, like a gleaming light of hope had reappeared.

the halls felt strangely louder today, like something had happened that i missed out on. people were crowded around their lockers, awaiting something or someone to which left me perplexed. it's days like this where i wish i had a friend who'd tell me all about it, but for that reason only.

my thoughts are smacked out of me when i finally see mandy, her hair a little curlier then usual. everytime i see her, it's as if its the first time, her beauty leaving me painstakingly dumbfounded. through her thin, white shirt, i see she has chosen her baby-pink, lacy bra — which i knew she only wore when she was feeling poised. it had been a gloomy friday, would she be going to a party tonight or maybe a date? she has her phone in her hands, tapping away with her gorgeous eyes cast down obliviously. my heart throbs at the sight of her freckly face and the faint hint of her body that caused a stiffness between my legs. as usual, she hadn't noticed me, which gave me some form of relief and disappointment all at the same time. before jealousy clouds my vision at the thought of her doing god knows what tonight, in those few seconds i'm gawking at her, i feel a large body collide with mine roughly.

"fucking nob." i hear the mutter of her boyfriend's voice, patrick, before i feel the pain of his strength pulsating at my shoulder. my head turns to stare at him, the red spikes of his punk hair and the beaten leather jacket he has slung around his muscular body. he doesn't bother with looking at me, rather possessively grabs mandy's hand in a tight clench with clear, affirmed power. 

i can't even help the rage that floods me at the sight, fantasizing at the thought of running up behind him and seizing his shoulders. throwing him to ground and kicking in his weak skull, just for it to crack and bleed out the vacancy that it holds inside. his silver eyes begging me for forgiveness, just once, 

class starts, and it's then that i realize what all the commotion is about. 

"good morning, everyone." my english teacher, miss peters, smiles with ceremonious warmth. unfortunately i'd like to hate her as it's much easier that way, but she's sincerely the kindest woman i've ever met in my life. her eyes have years of genuine happiness tucked away into the wrinkles surrounding them, her greying hair elegantly short and tidy. she's in her mid fifties, yet her mannerisms are so child-like and joyful that she only inquires attentiveness from her class.