Chapter Text
“Hey”
“Hi Nicole”
“How r u?”
“Im fine… uhh gtg jecks”
“Damn already? Didn’t realize it was a skip day”
“Yea” I rush out of the school. The first bell hasn't even rung but I just need to go. Go somewhere. My feet are traveling without my mind. My heart is beating a little too hard. My hand shake slightly. Jecka cant know. I need to get home. The row of perfect white HOA houses pass by me. The 2 inch lawn sitting perfectly cut. The fading grey house standing out. One window covered with a blanket. Music blasting from the basement. The grass too long, the fence breaking. The trash not taken out. My foot prints on the siding. My window cracked from sneaking out last night. My spare blanket on the roof where i was stargazing.
“NICOLE JADE CLARK! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? SCHOOL JUST STARTED YOUNG LADY!!”
“shut up bitch, go drink your fourth bottle of wine”
“NICOLE YOU CANT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT ITS-“
*SLAM*
That settles that fight. My door is gonna fall off with how much i slam it. And I'm not shocked if my mom is the one who rips it off its hinges.
It’s not like she ever hits me. At least not that I remember. I don’t remember much of anything. When you move as much as i do you forget the details, and the pretty much everything from before the age of…uh. What's the point in making memories if they just get left behind. It's always been mom and her mini me. Until it was mom and her daughter. Until it was mom and her ungrateful teen. I guess I'm ungrateful for quitting dance, the thing she guilted me into staying with from when i was 2 to when i was 14. Too many fucking years of my life. Or maybe im ungrateful for being the emo kid and cutting and skipping school because ‘oHhHHhh i had SUCHHHHH a rough childhood and im doing my best for you but its not good enough :(‘ like ok bitch I know youre a narcissist, shut up.
My hand traces my night stand looking for my ipod. Im grounded again so no ipod touch but i got an old one for cheap a while back and it works i guess. The buttons are kinda crusted. Whatever. I just want to listen to music, disassociate, and maybe cut. Not the last two at the same time though. That sucks. I don't feel it, it hits me like hell when I reassociate. I wanna feel shit now, not later. I smack my face, the weak slap bouncing off my echoey walls. My mom doesn’t let me paint them. She’s concerned about the property whatever.
My stupid emo whatever the fuck music is sitting in my mind as i feel less and less like me. My body moves automatically as I get out of bed and walk to my bathroom. It’s like I’m watching myself… I’m not me. Someone else has the controller and I’m somewhere else. I sit down on the bathroom tile. The white squares cold against my leg, the dark grey towel brushing my shoulder. And im just… here. I want to get up. I want to move. I want to grab my blades. I want to get in bed. I want to listen to music. I want to text someone. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“Pussy”
what? Shit is it happening again? Fuck. I can’t move. I can’t stop this. it feels like my head was struck by lightning. I fall over curling into a ball on the floor. My eyes blur. I want to scream. I need to scream. I cant-