Page 103 of Diem

He should be confused because whoever this is, it’s not me. I’ll never be the same again.

Rising to my feet, I crack my neck in the silence. Hailey has calmed in his embrace, but she’s still glaring at me heatedly, which I ignore as I grab my bag from the floor.

My head aches, a fresh pain that’s welcome because it’s not associated with anything but the bitch standing before me.

From a distance, I see a teacher pushing through the crowd. Students flee, my mouth throbs and I touch my lips, staring at the blood covering my fingers.

“Okay, okay. What’s going on here?” the teacher exclaims.

Looking back to Ollie I say clearly, “Nothing. I lost my way. I trusted that I knew my path, but I was wrong, and I fell.”

His eyes darken, but he says nothing while the teacher looks between Hailey and me before barking, “Go see the nurse. Everyone else back to class.”

Without a backward glance, I head to the office, making up lies as I go.

∞∞∞

After begging a headache, I’m allowed to go home. Unfortunately, it’s a long walk but I take the time to cool my head. Now, as I sit on the floor and lean against my bedroom door, I see that home is no more of a relief than school.

It’s quiet, Mom isgone. Staring at the walls, covered in posters and pictures, the dresser layered in tickets, photos and trinkets, my heart starts to burn.

This isn’t my life. It’s all a goddamn lie. The picture of Ollie and me as infants, a fucking sham. He doesn’t care about me.

Tickets to the Nutcracker four years ago, a family night out, which ended with my parents bickering in the front seat while Ollie texted on his phone, a joke. Have we ever been a happy fucking family?

The ribbon hanging off my mirror, the only award I’ve ever received, for attendance is laughable.

The teddy bear on my bed, a gift from Diem when I was ten, a fucking lie I told myself.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I dump out a box of old sweaters onto the floor. Every picture, trinket and memento is unceremoniously tossed inside. I’m tired of living the lie.

When I’m done, I collapse to the bed and close my eyes, the burn in my veins reduced to a dull ache. Diem has torn me down to my lowest place, the layers peeled back to reveal my soul, bared and raw but what’s been exposed is dark and ugly, ruined, a wasteland.

When you’ve lost all, you clung to–the last vestiges of your sanity, there’s nothing left.

The fucked-up part, more fucked up then the rest anyway is that I still yearn for what I can’t have, for it was never mine to begin with.

With a groan, I pull myself up from the bed, and walk wearily to the mirror, wiping my eyes, and sniffling back the water dripping from my nose. Glaring at my reflection, the pathetic visage glares right back, as if to say, this is all your fault.

I guess it is. I asked for this. I craved his darkness, and that’s what I got…in spades.

Roving over my pale skin, I mark the scars left from my perilous journey. The thin lines and silvery streaks mocking me, a message of my frailty but no this is also a measure of my strength.

Who I am, it’s all been opened down to its basic core. I’ve been flayed open, the wounds raw and abraded but no one cares about my scars, no one has looked at me and recognized my path. I’m invisible.

If Diem wants Hailey, fine. I don’t care. I’m numb. I’m empty. I’m a ghost.

And I’m done. No more tears. No more lust. No more need.

∞∞∞

Diem

“Get the fuck off me,” I mutter, pushing the chick aside.

She pouts prettily but it’s lost on me as I grab the bottle beside my head and take a long pull. Shit tastes nasty but I don’t fucking care because all I want is oblivion.

Unfortunately, so far, the bitter brew has done nothing but ratchet the headache building at the base of my skull. Why did Maeve have a bandage on her wrist? If she thought she could hide it under her sweater, she’s dead wrong. Did she do that to herself?

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