Born an Angel

Chapter 29 - J NJTT ZPV

I should've thought before sitting on the muddy ground. The bell went and I stood up to go, but the ground was slippery, and you can bet I fell straight back onto my butt. Luckily, my jeans were black, but that didn't hide the blotches of brown all over the back of my pants, and the hem of my shirt.

"Dammit."

I trudged to class, trying to be oblivious to the looks thrown my way -- some to do with the mud, and others from rumours that I didn't want to think about -- until I got to class.

"You're late."

"Sorry miss."

"I don't care how smart you are, you shouldn't be late. Wait outside."

I should've remembered the harsh Mrs De Seela, but today I couldn't be bothered. I walked outside and fell to the floor, leaning against the cool bricks. I didn't want to be here. I have no idea why I wanted to come back. I knew I should stay away and I knew it would be hard. I knew I would miss them, I knew it would hurt.

I just didn't know it would hurt this much.

Stop thinking about it! You can't start crying, you're going to go into class!

Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying stop crying stop cryingstopcryjngstopcrying. Stop. Crying!

"Fuck!"

"Language, Crystalline!"

Mrs De Seela. I stood up fast, wiping away my tears, standing straight and tall.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

My gaze flicked to the trees in the distance, the way the leaves glowed yellow in the sun. Think happy thoughts.

"I'm fine, miss."

"Are you sure?"

I was unsure how, but her voice had no empathy in it, though she was speaking sincerely. How could she even sound so heartless?

"I, uh-"

"I'll give you a note, go to Mrs Moore's office."

"Ms Moore?"

"Mrs. She's came here after you left. Same room as Mr Finch, just a different person."

She disappeared back into the classroom before I could utter any reproval. I moved a step, but then I realised my mistake. I knew who was in there. I knew who would see my puffy eyes and Rudolph nose. I could only imagine his reaction. His cocky grin twisting into a frown, as he saw me and realised. And his eyes -- his stunning emerald eyes -- shaded, almost devoid of colour.

"Ms Delbry. Your note."

I turned from nearly crying to being a complete robot. My arms we're electric, forced to move as a machine. I'm not sad. I'm not angry. I'm not confused. I'm numb. My legs stride lifelessly to the room, following traces of a memory. I may as well not have a face, because it's blank.

I knock three times on the cherry wood door. It's smothered in posters of mental health organisations and inspiration quotes. I glance over them; colourful, bouncy, sweet -- too sweet. Sighing, I listened for the footsteps approaching the door, until I realised there were none.

I knocked again. No answer.

I knock thrice more. Nothing.

There was no sign of anyone in there -- no thumping, no voices, no sound at all -- just the wind. I turned the handle, but it only went so far. Locked.  I stepped backwards, unaware of what would happen, until boiling hot liquid was running down my back.