Aubrey, the Star

33: core

Aubrey

★

core - "the central region of a planet, star, or galaxy."

It's been a full week since homecoming.

7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

That's not enough time to heal. 

Not physically anyway. 

I wiped the fog off the mirror and tightened the towel wrapped around me. The bruise that had begun as a purple stain along my upper cheek hand sunk into my lower eye socket, and so now it had the appearance of a black eye. When I craned my neck to stretch it, the muscles cracked. I winced, breathing tight through my teeth each time. The doctor said the pain would last for a week or two from where I was strangled.

That meant Harden's markings would last around my neck too. They were purple, as well. The bruises resembled lightning strikes coiling around my neck. Even when I touched them I was shocked with electricity. Electricity that made me jump in place and cringe from the tenderness.

The bandage on my head that left a gash had been removed a few days ago. It only bled a lot in the hospital, but I didn't need stitches, luckily. And no hair was shaved in the process of treating it. I considered myself lucky on that part. The last thing I wanted was an uneven haircut.

Coils fell past my shoulders, drenched and heavy with water. I ran a towel through my hair, being gentle around the gash before twisting the towel onto my head.

My hands clasped around the countertop and I looked at my reflection ahead. I seemed about right. There were big eyes - bold enough to grow boring. A swollen cheek that gave off chipmunk vibes. I ran a finger over the frame of the mirror, feeling it's cool ridges and grooves.

This mirror always told me the truth and, for that, I appreciated it.

When I walked out of the bathroom, Charlotte lay sprawled across my bed scrolling down her phone. She winked at me as I crossed her and I rolled my eyes. Lately, she'd stay until we both got tired before going to sleep in her room. I think she knew that I was craving the company since I'd been stuck in the house for so long.

"You're so lucky the principal cancelled your midterms because I feel like I'm drowning," she said, whining. Charlotte rolled onto her stomach, throwing her phone across the bed. I stepped into my closet pulling on pajama shorts and a random t-shirt.

"I would be down to trade places with you if you'd like," I said, calling out to her over my shoulder. "Trying to avoid your mom all day is the highlight of my life."

Beth, who didn't have a job except pregnancy, was the one who kept me company each day. When I say company, I mean when she walked into a room, I walked out and the same could be said the other way around. She never bothered to acknowledge Harden and the abuse. I took that as her not caring. And that's fine.

"Eventually you'll be able to escape her and not look back." Charlotte sighed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I, on the other hand, am her daughter."

"Forget what I said about trading places." We both laughed and settled back into my bed. This was nice - our newfound relationship. Honestly, Charlotte has become the best part of my day. She brought back all the new gossip being talked about at school, giving us something to laugh about. Not that I ever paid attention to the rumors at Chellgren before.

Now, I needed to know if some sophomore named Tara really is pregnant or just bloated. Either one was unfortunate. Imagine being bloated every single day?