His Nepenthe | complete

1. Run

R U N F R O M Y O U R F E A R S

*

All I got from my rendezvous with the kid I found to be named 'Harry' was a metaphorical slap on the wrist.

At this point, Mr Callevant just wanted me to get through the last year of school, and all my fights, he knew, were not those that I started. They were only fights I ended.

I knew at his defeat, Harry and his friends wouldn't be bothering me again. There were already whisperings about how weak the boys were in circulation, and I knew when wouldn't want to face me again to fall flat back down even if it meant they could redeem themselves.

From that day, I couldn't help but to think of the brunette I had met out the front of the office.

She had given me so many looks; concerned, bored, annoyed, friendly. I didn't understand why she even lifted her head in the first place.

She did say she knew of me from my run-ins, so why would it matter to her if I was bleeding a little bit? Maybe she was just nosey.

But what sucked the most about thinking about her was the fact that I didn't even know her name, and didn't have a way I could find out. So it was just the brunette, in my mind. Or, perhaps more fittingly, the golden girl.

Her eyes were so weird. They seemed to change with her each expression, mimicking her feelings in intrusive ways. I could see what she was expressing and I hated it.

I felt sorry for anyone who had to deal with her when she was sad.

My god, and she was friendly too. Who's friendly in this day and age? Everyone just minds their own and sees how it turns out.

Maybe she just has nothing better to do than impose in other people's minds, like a personal hobby of hers.

I grabbed my earphones, shoving my phone into my hoodie pocket as the song played in my ears.

I turned the volume to maximum as I began to run, leaving my hell-scape of a house, my body clicking into pattern due to the routine.

As my legs pushed me forward, through the streets I'd lived in my entire life, I rethought everything about each brick in every house. I knew nothing about anyone here. I could always imagine I did, having seen all of them at least once, but I didn't really.

I had never spoken to my neighbours two doors down though I knew it was a family of four - Father, daughter and two sons. I'm pretty sure the girl was my age. She'd definitely tried to start a conversation before, when she first moved in last year. We were in the library at school I think, both in English. She sat across from me, tapping my arm, first of all introducing herself.

I don't remember what I said, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough to prove I wasn't interested. My abandoned Facebook profile was littered with messages from her and other random girls alike.

Marco, my idiot of an older brother, always said the only reason anyone ever had any interest in me was because I had no interest in anyone. Though a fair analysis, I know that he meant it to offend me. It didn't, not at all, it just made me think.

Was that how the brunette knew my name? Maybe it wasn't a smart comment but a slip of the tongue - her knowledge of my name stemming from her searching for it.

But she seemed far too disinterested in my personality to bother with finding who I was regardless of how I look.

I'm not trying to self compliment myself, but I do know that I'm upper side if average in the looks department. I had never thought anything of it until I was at the gym, and Xavier - someone I used to box with - mentioned that a lot of people stared at me for a good reason. He explained to me that I was 'a beautiful man, in soul and in sight'.

Then I noticed how many people looked at me. Not at school - cautious glances - but whenever I was out. Check out girls would frequently check me out, and any time I went to the mall, I would see at least three girls and their groups giggle as I looked up at them as if that in itself was a compliment to them.

I didn't get that look from the brunette, though. Her first look was of concern, her second of annoyance, her third teasing and playful. There was something about our interaction that made me think that we'd probably never speak again, and I was thankful.

Sure, she was attractive. The way her hair fell, her eyelashes that covered her golden eyes, the oversized sweater that hid any contour in her body in the cutest way, the skinny jeans that complimented her long legs and heeled boots that accentuated her fantastic ass.

Yes, I looked, sue me.

It was hard to not notice her. And she noticed me first, as well as knew my name, so god knows if she checked out my ass, too.

I shook my head, my eyes focussing on the pavement as I continued my reasonable pace. My eyes darted over to the sidewalk across the road, almost tripping as I noticed the girl who had just played in my mind.

I recollected myself, turning back, only to see that it wasn't who I thought it was, just some girl with the same colour hair as the girl. I was confused but the subtle feeling of disappointment that resonated within my veins, trying to tell me I wasn't glad it wasn't her.

I was. Who knows how long the girl's been stalking my misadventures with my problematic fist?

I brushed off the topic of her, continuing my afternoon run to a spot that I'm thankful was hidden by overgrowth.

I was at the top of the hidden broken hill when the sun began to set, my view of it pristine compared to anyone who's feet were too firmly on the ground. It'd be so easy to just let myself drop over the ledge, break all my ribs and lie in the forest until my death.

But that's not what this place was for. This place was for the sunset. It always had been, and it always would be, even if I wasn't there to see it in each afternoon I could leave my house.

That's kind of what I loved about it.

Each day, no matter where I was, would start with the sun rising and end with the sun setting.

If I was bleeding out in the forest, overdosing on pills or trying to snap my neck with rope, the one thing that I could absolutely guarantee without a single shred of doubt in my mind, is that in this same spot, the sun would wake the world up in the morning, and lay to rest like my dead body as it set.

I watched, with such a mindset, as the sun ran away, giving the spotlight to the setting moon amongst the stars so far away.

I took only one more breath before I ran home, the entirety of the way in what was almost a full sprint.

It burnt my lungs, the cold air, and whipped at my skin. But I liked it. I liked how it hurt me, I liked how it felt like I was breaking, bleeding. The only way I knew I was still alive was the pain. So I liked the pain when I was still breathing.

My heartbeat began thudding in my ears, almost so loudly I couldn't hear myself thinking.

Maybe that was for the best.

*

thoughts on Christian?