Misanthrope

13

Rage. All I felt was pure rage. It's a wonderful thing actually, anger. It gives you a certain amount of energy that leaves you feeling like you can do anything you want and nobody can stop you.

Walking down the hall, no, running down the hall, I slam the door of the school open and rush over to my car.

"Wait, fuck Alex, wait" Chase pants from behind me.

I turn around and see him running behind me carrying both of our bags.

He stops in front of me and places the bags on the ground trying to catch his breath.

"I'm so sorry" he says to me, sympathy oozing from his voice.

That's when everything hit me like a bus.

I no longer felt anger. All I felt was sadness.

It's like every time something good happens to me, the universe decides to rip it away from me like a bandaid. It fucking hurts.

It hurts so damn much.

I don't reply to him, I don't think I can formulate any words without crying. I just turn around and get in the drivers seat.

Chase sits in the passenger side and throws me a worried glance.

I stare ahead of me and start the car, driving towards Logan's house.

The slight thought of him brings a sharp pain to my chest.

I thought we had a good thing going on.

When we arrive at Logan's I make my way down to our room without a word.

His room.

Chase stands staring at me as I pack all of my bags.

I never really unpacked my things which I really appreciate right now.

I've always been a bit of a procrastinator.

I walk into the bathroom and pack up every single thing belonging to me.

My makeup, my skin care, my shower essentials, my toothbrush and my hairbrush.

Walking out to the main room, I wander over to the laundry basket and remove all of my dirty clothes from it, shoving it into a bag.

I continue packing until I have removed every piece of evidence that suggests I was here.

I look around the room, besides the pile of bags next to a very worried looking Chase, it's like I was never here. Like I never existed.

Chase and I make a couple of trips up and down the stairs with my bags. On the last trip when we make our way back out to the car, we are greeted with an upset looking Logan.

He looks like a mess. His hair is messier than usual and greasy from running his hands through it, he looks paler than usual.

"Alex, where are you going?" He questions frantically, watching me as Chase and I put the last few bags into my car.

"Away from you" I finally speak. My voice sounds raspy from the silent tears I have been shedding for the last hour or so.

"Where are you going to go?" He questions getting slightly angry.

Angry for what? It's your fucking fault.

"My house" I reply.

"But your dad-" he starts.

"I can call the cops" I reply nonchalantly.

"You said you don't want to go into foster care" he is becoming more angry with every second.