Taming Of The Bitch

Chapter 1 | Chasing A Pain Reliever

Three months after

Our lives are created and evolved around the things we eat, the people we meet and all of the crazy, scary or beautiful things we see.

And I find that incredibly simple.

Because those or the main things that make us all different, yet there's seven billion people in the world.

And a few million in every country.

And a couple hundred thousands in the cities and suburbs.

But where we grow up, there's only a few thousand different people that we encounter every day. And most days, it's just a repeated pattern.

Phil from the post office, Emma the bus driver, Natalie and Samantha, your best friends, and all your different teachers. Mr Williams, Ms Preedy...

Life never gives you anything more.

Every once and a while, Phil might retire and you'll see Sally, the new post office lady. Emma might call in sick and you'll see Steve. Natalie might move states so you'll have to make new friends.

And then other times.

The really, really rare times.

Natalie might never come back.

She might never Skype you. FaceTime you.

And then, a few weeks later, you'll see on the news, the plane she was in crashed. And she died along with five hundred others.

And you never saw her ever again.

But you've got to keep walking and talking. Like everything's fine.

After all, life isn't created by one singular person. Yet when we lose one person that means more to us than the inevitably of a world beyond life, it's like life isn't life anymore.

Talking becomes a chore.

Walking makes your knees buckle every now and again.

Life never feels the same after Samantha leaves.

● ● ●

2019
September
Wednesday 11th
10:37 am

"Could I have Violet please?"

Invisibility is replaced with dozens of pairs of eyes on me.

My English teacher casts me a small encouraging smile, as if to say oh go on, it won't be too bad, at least your not me.

"And bring your bag." The short curvy brunette adds.

I gather my book and pencil case, shove it in my bag and stand, tuck in my chair and follow the middle aged woman out of the classroom filled with angsty teens, in a swift, wordless movement.

Very few students are seen as we walk down the stairs and out of the old brick building, apart from the waggers and the people who ask for toilet passes so they can leave class and wander around the school for no particular reason.

The short figured woman glances back at me as we enter the front office. My distance from her makes her smile humorously. "You can come closer, I don't bite."

Although my opinion of her is stale, and her overall personality is, dare I say, annoyingly antagonistic, I bite my tongue before verbal diarrhea comes flowing out.