Lie

Remember

Asleep, warm, and safe- That's when my mind drags me right back into that dark house. After each nightmare, it is the same: I am breathing yet I am suffocating, I am silent yet I am screaming, I am alive yet I am dead. My phone sits under my pillow, its screen dark and vacant. I want to reach for it. I want to text a friend, or anyone for that matter, to let it out. But I can't risk putting such a burden onto anyone. I will not let even an ounce of this poison seep from my chest, because anyone who tries to stop its flow will be poisoned as well. My hand moves away from my phone and under my chest, pinned down, to stop the shaking. I fix my gaze on the wall, and it will stay there until my eyes can't stay open anymore.
Every night, that's how it goes.

-Four Years Ago-

There is something different about this morning. Maybe it was the alarm, but even so, a bit more sunlight seems to stream through my curtains, and the birds seem to chirp more loudly. My eyes open and my feet hit the floor at the same moment.
Then, I remember.
Today is August 19th, the first day of 6th grade. While the people around me are feeling something close to apocalyptic doom, I feel as if I have finally been carried into the clouds. Summer always bored me, as my best friend, Olivia, goes to her summer home in California during that time. What if she found another friend there? Is that why she hasn't texted me in a week?
I quickly shake my head, hope the dark clouds will dissipate, and focus on finding something to wear for my first day. I finally decide I need something to match my green eyes, and settle on a simple green dress, paired with a white flower crown in my hair. I add a pair of white sandals as an afterthought, and add some curls to my red hair. It's not naturally red; I dyed it a color I heard Olivia once refer to as "cherry cola." She started calling me Cherry since then, and I guess it caught on; everyone last year thought that was my real name. Smiling to myself at the memory, I practically jog downstairs and out the door.

It isn't until after I'm on the bus that my stomach growls, and I realize I forgot to eat breakfast. Luckily for me, there's only a few people there: a petite Asian girl, constantly adjusting her glasses, her nose in her Chemistry textbook; and a tall, slim boy with a hoodie pulled over his head, munching a pop tart.
I look away, out the window. I am silent, but my stomach isn't.
"Do you want some of this?"
My head turns, seemingly on its own, to meet blue eyes, blond curls. Does someone like that even need a name? The hoodie is draped over his shoulders now, and he had taken the care to approach quietly. Now this boy holds the pop tart out cautiously, as if I am a wild animal that might bite. But I'm probably something more like a deer caught in headlights.
Quietly, without a word, I take the pop tart.
That was the first mistake.