Flames And Blades

Chapter Six: No More

 Like every dramatic teen story, all the drama isn't relevant until school gets in the way. When I go to check the time, it's about half an hour until my 'early alarm' goes off. Seeing as I have to set five alarms in order to get up not on time. Either way, I'm going to be early for once, and that's going to set off my teacher or Trevor as if I'm acting way out of my normal behaviour. Who knows, maybe it means I'll get a double-dose of curious glances. Cross my fingers that I don't have to socialize any more than necessary. Yesterday was enough of that to hold me over until I become a crazy cat lady. With my current situation, that will probably be sooner rather than later.

Shaking my head, with a messy bun breaking yet another elastic in the process, and getting even more sarcastic than usual without my brains mandatory need for over ten hours of sleep to function even semi-correctly. I decide to have a shower to wake up, and feeling guilty for having water running through all the pipes in this small house so early while my parents are still here, I contemplate my options. I decide to vote not guilty since the haze was the only reason they really paid attention to me, and it's long gone. I head to the shower with this new sixth-sense of what the haze means, and the ability to tell that, maddeningly, it's coming back. Soon. A tug to my stomach tells me it will probably be a lot more different too. Good or bad, I don't care, I just want answers and my version of normality within grasp before prom. Why prom has an exact date, I have no clue, I don't even think my school even has a prom, to be honest.

Seeing as school doesn't start for another three hours after I wake up, I was extremely bored. I never have this amount of time on my hands, and the highest amount my culinary skills go to are pouring cereal with only spilling a few dozen bits everywhere, I make a bowl of some sort of knock-off puff thing with milk on the verge of expiring, while my hair dries, I think of what the haze could possibly mean. This then brings out the anger problems I've had until I have to count down from ten seven times. Dropping the entirety of my cereal whilst doing so, meaning all available food for me is going to have to be skipped until I can drive to a food place at a so-called reasonable hour.

Deciding to address a reasonless thing with reason filled questions caused too much trouble, I go into my room to focus on how presentable I should look today. Keeping my way too thick hair in a towel to give it a solid chance at semi-drying, I throw on my usual. Skinny jeans, riding boots and a cotton tee. Then I check myself out. The outfit itself is doable on me; complimenting my waistline and not making me look as tall as I actually am. My dark circles and still soaked hair after two hours of drying is not, by any means, doable. Smart choices, Indi.

Ranting about my hair is a thing I do often. It genuinely pisses me off. It's thick as hell and the only way it lays decently is if its long. Either way, it's a shade of brown that makes it look as if someone dropped a freshly bleached barbie in a pile of mud. As much as I'd love to just die it a darker brown or black, the colour doesn't stick. Like, it actually does not stick. Every time I try, the washing out part takes every ounce of colour that it gave right back. So I keep it long and have it hidden via braid, bun or hat if I'm feeling it. Today is a style I don't allow myself to follow through with often; the anger do. I brush my still wet hair out and tie it up, grabbing all few makeup supplies I own. Applying it painstakingly slow so I don't get bored again. Checking the clock for the thirtieth time, I flinch and swear, noticing I've made old habits stick; I'm late. Figuring I probably won't get that many normal moments in the next bit, I take this as a sign to flip off the powers that be and continue with my old routines.

Rushing out the door, like Beelzebub is on my heels, I wrap most of my hair back in a silk scarf (twirled into this wired headband elastic thing that I am nearly positive makes me look crazy) and hop in my car. Grabbing my keys and forgetting to bring a valid excuse along with me. The entire drive I feel as if someone's chasing me; it gives me a rush for the longest time. Only stopping when I realize that that is probably something not good for whatever the karma system is.