spoken word. (gxg)

one. (edited)

"Mia," a voice sauntered deep inside my consciousness, and a cruel scream bubbled out of something that wasn't my throat.

"Mia!" I snapped my head to the sound of my name but saw nothing, nothing, nothing. Hot, sticky blood crept down my forehead, stinging my eyes, and I clawed at them.

"I... can't see," I yelled. "I can't SEE, I CAN'T SEE, I CA-"

I didn't sleep.

The whole night, I had drifted in and out of consciousness. I woke up endlessly, randomly— 3:34 am, then 3:36, then 3:40. When I sighed awake, finally, at 6 AM, it was a relief to see my hands not caked with blood but sweat and my eyes bleary with disorientation and sleep instead of gore.When I blinked myself awake, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the dim light seeping through the window, I was hit with a wave of exhaustion. I stood too fast and winced as blood throbbed through my head.

One of my feet was bare, and I sighed, knowing I'd have to dig through my sheets to try and find the missing sock.

I grabbed my toiletry bag-- filled with cheap face-wash and practically-empty toothpaste and an orange toothbrush I'd gotten from a dentist's office a year before during Halloween-- and slipped my feet into my worn slippers. Hard to say what color they were anymore. My constant use of them had them turning browner and browner every year, despite my constant washing. The rubber dots that littered the bottom of them had long worn away.

I turned the handle of the door, glancing behind me to be sure that my roommate wouldn't wake up, and stepped out into the cool hallway, heading to a sink to wash my face.

The bathroom, single-stall, single shower, shared between all of the inhabitants of the apartment hallway, was peculiar because it smelled okay, even as the mirror was splattered with God-knows-what and the floors probably hadn't been cleaned in a month.

I smiled at myself in the streaked mirror. At school, I once overheard two girls talking about the bathroom. I never use school bathrooms one said to the other, disgust clear in her voice.

At least the school bathrooms are cleaned, I wanted to tell them.

When I returned to get dressed, my roommate was still asleep. I quietly slipped on clothes, trying not to disturb him. I faced away from him, self-conscious that he might wake up while I changed my bra, even though he never woke before noon.

The drive to school was nice, at least-- I listened to my favorite playlist and hummed contentedly along as I steered.

As I entered the big doors at the front of the building, I noticed how nicely everyone around me was dressed for the first day of school. I caught a glimpse of my stained t-shirt, badly patched-up jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes in the reflection of the tinted full-length glass windows as I walked in. I didn't let my gaze linger, however. I never really cared to dress up, even if it was for the first day of my senior year. I didn't have the money to afford nice clothing, anyway.

I didn't feel upset, I told myself as I sat through the first period of the day, that my clothing wasn't like everyone else's. My jeans, which were gifted to me in 7th grade, had personality. There were flecks of paint scattered across them, a particularly heavy sharpie stain decorated my left thigh. I had torn them at the knee playing Sharks and Minnows with some little kids at the park a few weeks ago. My friend Caelen, a part-time nurse who lived on the same floor as me, sewed them up for me. It wasn't the best stitching, but I didn't care.

My steps were light as I hurried to my next class, English. The hallways were crowded, so I got elbowed a lot, but I managed to make it across the disorganized hoards of people in time for the bell to ring.

I saw a bunch of students loitering around a desk, many seats unoccupied. I snuck between them to see what the commotion was about. It was a seating chart. I didn't really mind, but I heard a few boys cursing under their breath. When I saw who was sitting next to me, however, my breath caught.

June Willow. June Willow. I suddenly hated the stupid chart and that my last name was Wilks-- it was sabotage in the name of alphabetical seating order. June was well known around the school. People said that she brutalized everyone who dared to disrespect her; even when she wasn't suspended she never went to class. She had a lot of friends in university, apparently, and partied quite often. Eyes and hands trembled, almost physically cringing in fear, when they heard the name June Willow. She was bad news.

I didn't like to believe in rumors, but...

I wasn't a fool;  wasn't about to try to get involved with the school's most conspicuous person, not to mention dangerous.

I was a little curious, though. How did June Willow, the infamous ditcher extraordinaire, get into an AP English class? Was she more than her pretty face and bruised knuckles?

I doubted it.

I was a little surprised-- just a little-- when she came to class, glanced at the small sheet on the front desk, and obediently sat behind me. It was likely that she would sit there no matter what, I mused, because we had been placed in the dead back.

I craned my head around to peek at her despite myself, suddenly faced with the ability to see what June Willow looked like. I expected her head to be down, sleeping or whatever else bad students did, so I could glance quickly and turn back around.

When I turned, she was staring at our teacher, Mrs. Liam or Lee or whatever. Our eyes met, briefly, and I had the compulsion to smile.

I smiled. At June Willow.

Surprise registered on her face for a moment, and I wondered if maybe she was as nervous as I was. I felt a little guilty; maybe I was reading into the rumors a little too much. Maybe she wasn't as dangerous as everyone said.

And then the moment ended.

Her blank face, the cold expression in her eyes as she tore hers from mine, stifled the thought immediately. Her lip was bleeding, freckled skin bruised in blooming purple, and I felt a shiver of fear. She was dangerous, and I could see it in every inch of herpale, perfect skin and fiery red hair.

I didn't look behind me again.

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A/N:

Thank you so much for giving my book a try!

I'm going to be updating on Mondays at the very least, but knowing me I'll probably find an excuse to post more frequently. I tend to go back and edit chapters quite often, as well. (I say, as this is my third edit on this chapter alone)

Feel free to give comments/suggestions/edits!