The Jungle Girl

6-The First Story

   I get home completely drained. My hair's a mess, I smell fucking terrible, and I'm covered in sweat. Well, not so much anymore thanks to Alaia and her blotting pads. The second I step in Zenny comes rushing out. "Hey! How was it? Tell me everything!" She gives me a much needed hug and pulls away. "Actually nevermind, maybe you should shower first."

I can't help but laugh. "Thanks Zenny. You're so sweet."

But, I take up on her suggestion and head to the shower. I'm in there for almost forty minutes. I let myself relax and not think about the fact that I have to do this all over again tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Oh dear god.

I come out to the smell of chicken soup and I almost start to cry because I'm so happy. Zenny's already at the table, waiting for me. She sees me come in and lights up. "Ok, I'm ready. Lay it all on me. Sit down and tell me everything. Go hour by hour, minute by minute."

I give her a tired laugh and start from the beginning. I tell her everything from getting sat on to almost getting attacked by a water faucet. I say everything in between bites of chicken soup that makes my uneasy stomach feel warm and settled. When I tell her I had talked to two new people she looks so proud I thought she was going to start crying.

Then I get to the fight. The expression on her face instantly dims. "Were you hurt? Are you okay?"

"Zenny, I'm fine. This is high school. Stuff like this will probably happen everyday."

She doesn't look convinced. "I know, but I just don't want you to have another reason to worry or be scared, and it just sucks because I can't be there for you or with you and I can't prevent you from getting hurt..."

"Hey, Zenny it's ok," I try to calm her down. "I'll be fine. You know how many people have survived freshman year?"

"Probably at least ten," Zenny sniffles.

"That's right, and I'll make it at least eleven." She smiles at that. "I mean if I get too freaked out we'll just ask Dr.Mota for a higher dosage," I say jokingly.

Zenny shakes her head and laughs. "Speaking of which, you have to take your pills." She takes the medicine from the cupboard and hands it to me. I take the pills without thinking twice. I honestly don't know why people get so hung up on using medication for your mental health. If someone had a headache you wouldn't suggest them to go do yoga. You'd give them a Tylenol or two without batting an eye. So what's the difference with me having to take a pill to feel better? To feel like myself. I remember when Momma first suggested it, I was hesitant. I didn't want to start relying on pills. But, with the right doctor, medication, and dosage, my life took a complete one-eighty. That's not to say I don't have anxiety anymore, because I do. It's just more bearable. And me being shy, that's just that. There's a difference between being shy and having anxiety. I'm shy, and I have anxiety. Those are two separate things that sometimes happen to overlap. Doesn't mean they're the same thing.

I want to spend the rest of the evening with Zenny but I am dead tired. She lets me go only after I describe Shay and Angela in full detail for her. When she's pleased with the description of Shay's glowing skin and Angela's curly, red dyed hair, she lets me go.

I get in my bed and breathe in the scent of home. After a few texts to Alaia to see how she is, I grab my laptop from my desk and do what I love most. I write.

My first attempt at an assassination didn't go very well. It must be a genetic thing. I would usually speak my mind, but with a gun pointing to my head I was a bit apprehensive. The guard was holding me by the throat, squeezing just hard enough for it to hurt. My hands were tied in front of me and I was forced to my knees. "Do you have anything to say, Miss?" Oh, so the guard speaks. "Yes, if I may. Although I'm finding the rifle at my temple is making it a bit hard for me to concentrate." The guard gives me an amused look and takes the gun away. "I must say that is a lot better. Although, the cement floor is extremely uncomfortable and is hurting my knees. Do you think I could perhaps get a seat? And maybe some water, my throat's a little dry."

"Enough!"

That one word echoes down the walls and I try to keep my fear on the inside.

"Oof, best not raise your voice, yeah? Don't want to wake the king up."

The guard reaches his breaking point. He takes out a dagger and points it at my throat. The tip of the blade is digging into me, nearly drawing blood, but not quite. I put on a smile and hope it doesn't tremble. "What? You're gonna kill me?" I laugh and grab the wrist that's holding the dagger. "Gonna chop my head off and put it on the king's desk? Right next to the queen's and the prince's?" His eyes widen and he loosens his grip a little. I try to catch him off guard and twist his arm back, but he's too quick. He grabs my arm and, with a deafening crack, pops it straight out of its socket. I grit my teeth against the pain. I refuse to show any weakness. He drags me across the room and up a flight of stairs. I know exactly what's up there. I manage to find a sense of peace from deep within. Mother, brother, I tried, I failed, I'm sorry. But I'm coming.   

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Just to be clear what's in italics is a story Bindi wrote... inside this story that I'm writing... but also the story Bindi wrote I actually wrote... obviously... ok I'll stop