Most were accustomed with the shrill tocsin which was their school bell, however as it rang to communicate the end of third period, Vanity felt her temples throb with indignation. The resonance was grating, making her head thrum as she reassembled her belongings and stowed them into her bag. She had developed a terrible migraine throughout the course of her first and second lesson, be it the sheer idiocy of some of her peers or the abysmal droning of her teachers was a debatable matter.
"Remember!" Dr. Coleman's raised voice cut over the clamour, though failed to subdue the heedless students, "your stem cell homework sheet is due in for this Friday! If it isn't complete then I'll sanction you where necessary!" Admittedly, not a single person was listening. They were too busy hustling their way out of the door with undeniable eagerness. Not that they could be blamed, it was lunch after third period and most grew abysmally restless halfway through the lesson. Again, it was perfectly understandable because their science teacher had an awful habit of spouting utter nonsense. And she would be more than happy to get out of class that very moment.
"Vanity, hold your horses!" Just before she could make her escape with the last of her classmates, the teacher called to her, and she swore that his tone had some sort of amused property to it as she halted mid stride. She just about had to bite her lip to disguise a huff of irritation. "I have an email from out pastoral officer... it's important." He went on to explain; suddenly his voice was solemn. A pang of anxiety seized at Vanity's gut then as she pivoted on her heel in order to face him. His expression was serious, uncharacteristic upon his usually carefree face, it was almost disconcerting as he beckoned her over to his desk. Hesitantly, she complied and shuffled closer to him.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Van, but..." Dr. Coleman hesitated for a moment, rubbing a palm across the back of his neck as Vanity tensely awaited his next words, worry etched onto her porcelain face, "your mom..."
It hit her then, anxiety melting into unadulterated dread. She started trembling, her heart hammering against her chest with building apprehension.
"What..?" She choked out over the lump which had formed in her throat, "is she okay?!" Dr. Coleman sighed heavily, obviously at a loss for words as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder in a futile attempt to console the skittish girl.
"She's been ushered into emergency care... I'm not too sure what for but after school you're to go straight to the hospital."
And just like that she was assuming the worst. What if she'd gotten seriously injured? She'd always been shaky-handed, what if she'd dropped something sharp and wounded herself? Had she been keeping up to date with her medication? In the profundity of her thoughts Vanity had began shaking noticeably.
"Hey..." the teacher said, giving a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry yourself too much, kid. I'm sure she'll be ok." Vanity tried her best to thank him but she had felt the all too familiar prick of tears welling in her eyes. "If it makes you feel any better, you... don't have to have your homework in so soon. Do it when you can, ok?"
"U-Uh, yeah.. thanks sir... for informing me." And before he could see the first tears spout from her eyes, she had turned, and exited the classroom, navigating her way into the canteen with blurry eyes.
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The rest of the day was a haze. Vanity didn't feel present. Trapped in her own buzzing head, looking like even more of a husk to the people around her- it got to the point where she was so plagued with anxiety that she was unable to complete any task appointed to her in lesson. She wasn't sanctioned, however. Most teachers gave her sad, pitying looks or tried to reassure her with smiles when they caught her eye. She didn't smile back. Her thoughts only got even more outrageous as time dragged gruellingly on.
What if she had died? That was when she began fretting over her financial state and where she would live, how would she pay rent? She had no job, no alternative source of income and if her mother was absent she would most likely be evicted and as a result, she would become homeless. She realised just how dependent she was on her mother. And she realised that her mother hadn't been taking her medication, and that she was looking more tired than usual, the rings under her eyes had grown darker. If she had just took notice that her health was beginning to decline, she probably wouldn't be in this situation.
At long last, the end of the day had rolled around. Vanity didn't board the bus like she would have usually done. Instead she opted to bide her time by walking home instead of letting her thoughts run wild anymore, dreading the inevitable trip to the hospital. As she retrieved her phone from her pocket, it had decided to rain. Not an overly harsh torrent, more like a light drizzle which was, in a peculiar way, comforting. And so Vanity set off toward the hospital, expecting the worst by default. At the very least, the music helped to alleviate the intrusive suspicions and ideas lapsing around in her head. It didn't help to stop tears brimming in her eyes though, silent and bitter against her cheeks.
'Cause I'm right here~
Darling, I'm right here.
Close your pretty eyes,
My butterfly...'
"I'm sorry, mom"
YOU ARE READING
Girl of the Unorthodox (UNDER REVISION)
General Fiction((POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: mentions overdosing, strong detailed violence, occasional elements of gore and angst, please read at one's own discretion)) EDIT: TWs still apply. i haven't touched this pile of shit since last year so i'm revisiting it...
