petrichor

The Text Message

Natasha

At school, it was the usual everything. Natasha had to struggle between two of her least favorite lessons; math and science and her sometimes annoying classmates. When the school bell rang, she quickly gathered her books and rode the school bus home.

She came home with a history report due next next week and a fifty questions math homework due tomorrow. But she didn't want to think about it yet until she got home. When Natasha pushed open the front door, she was overwhelmed with exhaustion. She staggered towards the bedroom and collapsed on her bed.

She sighed. God, I have so much work to do! As she stared at the ceiling. It was in the afternoon, her dad was probably running some so-called "errands" while her mom was busy working her butt off to support the family.

If she didn't have to do the math homework, she could've enjoyed the house all to herself. Raiding the fridge, using the WiFi and maybe use the TV for a bit to have a movie marathon on all the movies she'd miss. But again, she didn't want to fail the class so she had to reluctantly do her work, even if she was not eager to.

Natasha lay down on her bed for a few more minutes before she dragged herself to her desk and started rifling through her math textbook. She frowned, she was having difficulties learning this chapter in class, let alone do an exercise about it.

Sure enough, the first question was enough to make her head spin. What the actual f***?! She said to herself. She didn't remember learning this in class, but then again, maybe she was zoning out again too much. She massaged her temples. This is going to be a very agonizing time.

Finally, after minutes debating on whether she should do the homework or not, she decided not to do it. I can always do it at school, right? She quickly tucked her homework book bag in her bag and thought about what to do next. So, what next, huh? She thought.

Immediately, her mind went towards a notebook in her backpack. "Do I wanna write?" She asked herself. "Maybe I have an idea? Okay, why not. Let's give it a try." She decided.

With nothing to do next, she went to her backpack and pulled out a spiral bound notebook. It had a blank yellow cover and was Natasha's coping device at school. The book was what she called her "ideas and stories" book. In there, she wrote her potential story plots, character profiles, and others things that are related to writing.

The book was highly confidential. She had never shown it to any of her friends, classmates, and even her mom. And she intended to keep it that way. The book was like her own personal world where she could come and go as she pleased to escape from the real world. And if someone saw it then, it was not her world anymore because someone already saw it too.

She grabbed her pink pen on the table and flipped the book to an empty page. She liked writing short stories as she thought full length novels were too hard for her. What should I write about? She thought to herself. Ah! I got it, I'd write about today-but like, in a fantasy format. She fiddled with her pen a little bit and began writing.

Time passed, and when she looked at the clock, it was five o'clock already. I think I'd take a shower first. She thought. Natasha closed the book and placed it back in her bag, knowing her mom never checked it, and walked to the bathroom.

In the shower, she stripped herself off of her uniform and climbed inside. When the first droplet of water hit her arm, she winced in pain. "OW!" She yelped. The scar she'd made four days ago was still not fully healed, and now it had been reopened. She tried to get the arm away from the water, but failed miserably.

Instead, the water sprayed her body hitting the scars on her other arm, her thigh, and her calf. She hurriedly showered as she didn't want to feel the sharp, throbbing sensation on her wounds again. "Please let's just get this over with." She muttered. Once she was finished, she hurriedly wrapped herself in a towel and went out.