Chapter Text
– Lottie Matthews –
“I saw her in the rightest way”
Every morning I wake up and I want to die.
Okay, sorry. Maybe that’s overdramatic, but it’s a half truth. I wake up and I feel empty. Mom says it’s the medicine, she says it numbs my brain, in turn numbing me, but it feels more soul-sucking than numbing.
The world feels like it’s out to get me. That, or it’s out to forget about me.
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“Lottie, pass!” Jackie’s voice roars over the cheers from the stands and the stomping of cleats against battered grass. The ball in between my feet as I run, the cold air entering my throat like an unwelcome guest. My chest aches and my legs throb, but it makes me feel alive.
I know I’m out of thinking time when a girl in a green jersey comes up on my left and starts nibbling at the ball, her stupid foot even trips me up. I’ve always had good legs, so a simple pass to Jackie was easy. The girl beside me grunted and ran back down the field as her teammate followed swiftly after Jackie.
I took a second to breathe before jogging down the field. My eyes catch on the scoreboard. 3 to 3. 16 seconds remaining. Mari’s got the ball, and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s also seen the time – she kicks it – and it’s in.
Shouts erupt from the sidelines, our classmates and friends chanting and cheering. Our team huddles together in the center of the field with our usual winning chant.
“Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!”
Maybe it was from all the running I just did, but my legs became jelly the second her eyes met mine. The girl with the bluest eyes. The girl with the sweetest smile. The girl I’ll always want but I can never have.
I realize that I’ve been blank-faced staring at her for too long when she tilts her head and her brow furrows slightly, but her smile doesn’t change at all. Still – my face heats with embarrassment and I draw my eyes away from her and her perfect blonde hair.
The “after party” in the locker room is the same as always. We blast “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa on loop and talk about who we think is most likely to screw a teacher (Which would be Mari, no doubt), but it’s never boring. I like routines. My mother taught me that structure is good. Without a good structure, a building will crack and crumble. The same goes for people.
Van’s mess of a red ponytail whips around from her stance in the mirror to glance at me. “Lottie! Tai, Nat, Laura Lee and I are going to Applebee's for a post-game feast. You in?” Her ponytail is driving me insane. Is that a skittle?
“Van, is there a skittle in your hair?”
She spins all the way around now, giggling like a four-year-old. “What? Tai was throwing them in my mouth a minute ago. Must’ve missed.”
“Right.” Vanessa Grace Palmer please fix that fucking ponytail.
“So…dinner? Tai’s driving.” Fuck. I love Van, I really do. But I’m not ruining a two-day fast over Applebee’s. I know playing soccer white medicated on an empty stomach, and that’s probably the cause of the uncomfortable gnawing in my stomach, but that’s just the love of the game. Pain has always made me feel alive. Whether it’s the first time I slid a blade across my skin and stared as the blood dripped down my arm, or the last time I stared at a full plate with tears in my eyes, it’s all the same. Pain makes the bad thoughts go away, and I have a lot of those.
“Sorry. I’d love to but I…” Come up with something Lottie, Jesus! “– have plans. I have plans.” Real. Smooth.
Van nods, her everlasting smirk unshakeable. “Understandable.” She spun on her heel, raising her voice for the whole locker room to hear. “Well, I’m out. Astalavista, bitches!” After Van’s dramatic exit, my teammates all follow shortly, until I’m left alone in the locker room.
My stomach feels heavy despite the lack of food inside of it. The pain is mild, especially compared to some of my worst days. I stand with shaking legs and lean on the sink. After a quick glance to the locker room door, I twist my number 5 jersey up to my lower chest to stare at my stomach.
I want to rip my organs out of my body.
I want to be perfect more than I want to be alive.
I want it to hurt.
But I also just want the pain to stop.
I’m on the brink of tears, my fingers trembling as the grip on my jersey wavers, and suddenly I’m just a sad, scared little girl. Some kids outside laugh, and a single tear slips down my cheek.
Three months ago, everything was perfect. I was on decent meds, I was eating well, but most importantly, she still loved me. Laura Lee was the reason I got up in the mornings. Seeing that smile would make my week. Now it makes me want to cry. I don’t know what happened, if I did, I would go back in time and undo it enough that it made present day Laura Lee forgive me, and I’d still owe her a hundred butterfly kisses.
The thought of butterfly kisses rips my heart out and stops on it.
She didn’t like to kiss. We’d only done it a handful of times in our six-month relationship, so we came up with something special. We’d push our foreheads together and rub our noses together. We didn’t come up with it, my mother had done it to me as a child, but it was still ours. I can still feel it, even now, after everything. After she left me on a random Tuesday after third period. Her soft skin brushed against mine. Christ, she was inhumane. A literal goddess.
“Is anyone still here?”
A gruff voice calls from the doorway. I stand, bag in hand, as a man with a cleaning cart rounds the corner. “Sorry.” My voice is quiet and timid, as he nods with a grunt and begins scrubbing the sink I was just crying on. As the cold air from outside breezes through my sweaty hair – I know I’ll be okay. I just have to get it together.
Make myself perfect. Perfect enough for her.