The Last Days Of Senior Year

I'm Back From The Dead(3)

Khafi Drew

I found out the hard way that keeping an anxious teenager on suicide watch wasn't the best thing ever. Although I wold choose this over sitting helplessly in a hospital, it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I always had to have someone with me, my parents even took breaks from work just to watch over me. I couldn't spend too much time in the bathroom, couldn't be around sharp objects, couldn't leave the house.

Apparently, during my time in the time I spent in the hospital, they found my stash. My only form of release, other than cutting, was aggressively ripped away from me, so I was going throw stages of withdrawal, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.

I found myself craving for the feeling of weightlessness that came right after inhaling some crack, I found myself crying loudly some nights, just needing an escape from the millions of thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone. But I couldn't, I couldn't meet up with my dealer to grab a new stash, I couldn't dig into my extras that I thought I had kept hidden, and that nearly drove me insane.

A month and a half after my attempt, I was finally allowed to go to school. I had mixed feelings about the whole ordeal. On one hand, I needed to get the fuck out of that house but on the other, I was bound to run into someone I just didn't want to see.

As I walked in between my parents, on our way to the principal's office, more than an hour early, with my fists buried deep in my hoodie pockets, I couldn't help the feeling of dread that fell upon me. I had no idea what people were going to think, and I was not ready for it. Heck, I wasn't ready to tell the principal, who has always hated me, about my "condition", as my mother often put it.

"Ah- Mr and Mrs Drew, what a lovely surprise, I see you've finally gotten Khafi to come back to school," the woman said once she laid her eyes on my parents. Her tone turned bitter the moment she laid her eyes on me. The short seconds between her staring me down and going back to smiling at my parents left me shifting awkwardly in place.

"What do I owe this visit?" Mrs. Marcella asked with a smile directed towards my parents. The two adults looked at one another before their gazes flickered to my cowering form.

"W-well," my mother began, " It's about Khafi," she mumbled. Marcella's eyes suddenly grew tired, the same look she had when I was reported for doing something wrong, which was a lot. The woman let out an exhausted sigh before proceeding to dig out my record. My mother sputter incoherent words in an attempt to stop her, it only left a confused Marcella.

"No, not that kind of thing," my father's steady voice cut through my mother's senseless sputters.

"You see-"

"Oh," Marcella oh-so-smartly replied. My fingers curled in on themselves as they nestled deep in my pockets. I avoided the woman's pity infested stare, looking at anything other than her sitting form.

"Mom, Dad, I'm just going to head to class," I said, my right hand already wrapped around the door's handle. Before I could give the handle a twist, my father called me back. "No, stay."

I suddenly grew angry, I wasn't sure if it was their babying or a side effect from my sudden withdrawal, but I felt my blood boil. I looked my father dead in the eye before throwing his command out the window. I twisted the nob and furiously marched outside.

I stayed in the third floor bathroom for what felt like hours. The place was mostly run down, most people don't even know it exists, I used to go there to take a quick smoke when my anxiety got too bad at school.

Maybe staying in a place that smelled like a local bar wasn't the best idea. As I lay crouched on a clean spot on the floor, I felt my senses tingle. The faint, but familiar smell of weed brought back memories, memories that left me tingling. I wasn't sure how long I just stayed there, an irresistible urge to have a needle lodged in my skin. 'Fuck, I need help.'

Probably an hour later, I heard the late bell ring and I cursed at myself for not hearing the bustling murmur of students. Now I was going to have to deal with the intense stares of the few people that dated to still litter the halls, I was going to have to deal with the heavy tension between my classmates and I as I would probably walk in mid class. The thought alone made my anxiety flare up and almost had me disregarding the whole school idea.

Almost. I really didn't want to prolong how many years I had to attend that hell hole of a school.

I trailed silently down the vacant halls. With every step I took, my brain seemed to find another reason that I should just turn back. Finally, I had convinced myself to turn back, only to curse at myself, I was already in front of the door. After a small string of curses, I turned my body around only to see Marcella walking towards me with a solemn look.

"You're still outside? Just go in Khafi, it's not like they bite," She teased. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and flip her off, instead I settled with muttering 'But they do bite!' under my breath.

Marcella has the audacity to scoff at me when I didn't move an inch even after a solid minute. She crossed her arms over her shoulder and struck a sassy pose.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll walk you in."

I must have had undiagnosed bipolar disorder because suddenly I couldn't stand the woman that stood not even five feet away from me. I was absolutely mortified by the change in her attitude towards me. My hands clenched into fists and my I had to grind my teeth to stop myself from saying something I'd regret.

With whatever slice of calmness in me, I muttered a response, loud enough for her to actually hear it.

"Thank you, that would be nice."

She had the audacity to emailed at me!

My head hung low as I trailed after Marcella's confidence infused form. She walked into the classroom after a mere knock, not even waiting for the teacher's reply, I simply followed her like a lost puppy.

I made the mistake of raising my head after hearing the deafening screech of a chair as it was abruptly pushed back.

There, she stood, mouth agape and complexion paler than a piece of paper. Her mouth moved animatedly, her hands moving just as fast to express her surprise.

A voice cut through her endless rant. I turned my head to Marcella who looked at the blonde's figure through her lashes.

"Miranda, that's enough."