Cruel Sanctuary

Chapter 21

Tuesday, the day after one of the worst days of the week. Owen commanded that we return to school today, to which I argued that he doesn't have to stay at home with me but then I realised that he is responsible for me and, whilst I'm almost certain that I wouldn't do anything stupid, no one trusts me. I shouldn't complain, it's my fault, after all. 

I decided that I would just go with what Owen wants because he is going through all this hassle because of me, the least I could do is follow instructions without the fight. My appearance, in my opinion, should be exactly the same as before my newfound insecurities so I have thrown together an outfit that I quite like, attempting not to draw too much attention with change.

With ten minutes to spare, I jog downstairs to the kitchen and decide that I will have some fruit and yoghurt for breakfast. I grab a bag of bagels from the cupboard and put two in the toaster for Owen with some light butter spread evenly onto the top. "What're you doing?" Owen asks as he strides into the kitchen, dropping his bag onto the floor next to mine. 

"Cooking breakfast," I shrug and he gasps, dramatically, "What have you done with Skylar?" I chuckle humourlessly, "Shut up, doofus." He zips his mouth shut and throws away the key like we did when we were young children and slides onto a seat as I put his breakfast in front of him with a glass of orange juice, "Thanks," he murmurs, his mouth already full of food. 

I then put my chopped fruit into a bowl and pour the Greek style yoghurt into the bowl and squirt some honey onto the top. Albeit, a very small portion but it's food nonetheless. Then I sit beside Owen and we eat in silence, dreading the day to come at hell, also known as school. 

***

The day has gone swimmingly, nobody has mentioned my absence, the wedding, my weight. In fact, I would go as far to say that it is all old news, yesterday's chip paper. Then English class came around and, when I stepped through the frame of the door, I was reminded of my desk partner who has busied herself for the whole lesson, shockingly. 

To top off the dreadful atmosphere, we have moved to our poetry term, the worst term of them all. This is when our teacher attempts to spoon feed us ideas as to what the colour red connotes or what a simple connective such as 'and' or 'but' would suggest about somebodies life. The term of waffling. However, the title of my poem is interrupted when Clara nudges me, I snap my head to her, "Yeah?" 

"Uhh...can you think of a word the rhymes with 'expected'?" She asks me and I think for a while, "What's the line?" 

"'It was exactly what I had expected', I'm talking about feeling empty, you know?" She informs me and I nod, my lower lip pointing out as I contemplate the options, "Well, you could say 'neglected', 'disconnected', 'suspected' or 'rejected'..." I trail off as she makes a side note of the words. 

"Thank you so much." 

I shrug, "No problem, I guess." 

We fall silent for a few moments, neither of us doing anything but then she breaks the thick ice, "Are you okay?" She blurts and I furrow my eyebrows, "What do you mean?" 

She deadpans me, "Come on, everyone knows about the thing." I roll my eyes, shoulders deflating as yesterday's chip paper makes it's way back to the headlines, "Of course they do. News spreads around here like STDs from you and all of your friends." 

Her eyes widen, "I swear I didn't say anything." I shrug, "I don't care, you can say what you want. It's your mouth." 

She sighs at the awkwardness of the conversation, ignoring my accusations, "Well...are you okay?" I nod, "I'm fine, really. I'm having a gradual recovery at home with the support of my loved ones. It's all I can ask for, really."