Trigger Warnings: Alcohol abuse, Mental Health, Language
Separate me from the rest of the heard, so
I can run away from all of my hurt, oh
Drink what I want
Be what I want
Say what you want me to say, like
I can pretend that I don't want it and I'm afraid
(And dangerous)
I turn over last week's practice exam paper. D
Peter stares directly at the red mark, his eyes narrowing. 'A D? Again?'
I push the paper to the side and slowly pull out my notes. My head slumps on my wrist, my eyes never leave the window. Peter continues to stare at me.
'Katherine, that's the fourth test you've nearly failed! Don't you care that our end of year exam is in two weeks?'
'Nope.' I pop, still not looking at him.
'What about our project? We've barely worked on it together. I feel like I'm doing everything!'
I continue to stare at the window.
'I need your help Katherine.'
Those words make my stomach hitch. 'I'm sure you'll figure it out.' I state, brushing the feeling away.
My pen remains unopened throughout the class. Peter tries to nudge his notes towards me. I push them away.
'Why don't we study together at lunch?' Peter suggests at the end.
'I'm busy.' I reply, continuing the slow movements of putting my books back into my bag only for them to be taken out again in the next class and then put away again and then taken out and put away and taken...
'What about after school?' He tries again, slightly more confident.
I stare up at him. Four weeks ago, when he disappeared after the trip, he was tired, pale and uncharacteristically quiet. I tried to reach out. Nothing. Then when I was sick, he never texted, never asked how I was and continued to ignore me in the corridor and in class. I know where we're at. We're not friends. You have no friends. Now he has this air of confidence, a slight sparkle in his eyes and colour in his cheeks. He looks at me like I'm damaged.
'Katherine,' he says sincerely, 'we both know you're perfectly capable of acing these tests.'
'You might find this hard to hear Peter, but exams are not the most important thing.'
There are no grades in real life. You fail, people die. And people have died because I failed.
Because if you can't stop the bomb, the world falls into alien hands.
If you fail to fight the fire, people get burnt.
If you don't cut off the head, two more will take it's place.
And when you can't stop the demons, they destroy your whole world.
I swing my bag onto my shoulder. 'But I don't expect you to understand that.'
YOU ARE READING
Ion Heart
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