Page 4 of Diem

The girl in the reflection looks pretty fucking pathetic and with a snarl, I run through the insults again.

Stupid. Ugly. Loser. Maybe she is all of those things, I concede, glaring at her red rimmed eyes and shiny nose.

“Loser,” I whisper before sucking my wobbling lip between my teeth.

Get it together, Mae.

With a sigh, I tighten my ponytail, ignoring the pale blonde wisps that tickle my cheeks. It’s obvious that I’ve been crying, which is probably what the asshole will focus on, but I can’t fake it away. I never could, which is part of the problem.

I’m the loser cry baby because I can’t stop the emotion constantly pressing at my chest. Maybe that’s a good thing because I have a fucking soul, but it sure doesn’t feel like a gift when it’s tearing me apart, limb by limb.

With a final fuck you to the girl in the mirror, I head to class. This is the part of the day that I dread the most.He’sin this class, which foolishly I would have been excited about a few years ago.

I still don’t understand what happened.

I’m so used to hiding and the one time I stepped out of that comfort zone was for Diem because I wanted him to truly see me. Not as the pathetic friend he grew up protecting from afar, but as the young woman who realized she loved him as more than just that.

For one magical night, he returned those feelings, or so I thought until what was the best moment of my life became the lies that he fed me before not only breaking my spirit but my heart.

Beauty is only skin deep, and his beauty is enough to take your breath away, but much like things too good to be true, his soul is wretched and decaying beneath.

The bell rings, pulling me from my melancholy and with grim fortitude, I bypass the other students and head for my desk.

I hate school. I have since I started to struggle and discovered to my horror that what was so easy for my peers was a constant mountain for me. Ironically, it’s the only thing I learned easily enough.

However, Diem has taken up a new low on my list because he’s the only person who can rip me open and leave me bared and as a result, I hate this class with a fiery passion.

Avoiding eye contact with basically everyone, I slide into my desk in the back-left corner and pull out my notebook. Staring at the doodles, mindlessly, I feel the burning stare I love to hate. But if I’ve learned anything over the past few years, it’s how to ignore the very thing that made my heart sing once upon a time. Now, the music is gone and what’s left is a black gaping hole of pain and self-recrimination.

The teacher calls us to order, shushing the low din of the student's chatter as he begins his lesson while I write the painful words that always circle my brain when I’m near Diem. As though they’re brimming to be heard, but there’s no one to listen.

With a gentle caress, he feels me.

With a cruel word, he bares me.

With a soft sigh, he fills me.

With a smug smirk, he kills me.

As usual, for all my attempts to distract myself, all I can truly focus on is his proximity. Maybe it should be the lecture winding down at the front of the class, but I reviewed the material, pouring over it all in advance. I don't need to listen, I have a personal tutor and a series of aides I can tap for my educational needs. Learning may be difficult for me, but I’m determined not to fail, which is why I complete as much as possible in advance.

Besides, Diem is the curse I created and now can’t out run. Maybe I deserve it for being so stupid. Stupid.

The bell rings, breaking me out of my reverie, and I grab my things following everyone out the door. I’m just walking through the threshold when my feet become a tumbled mess and I fall painfully to my knees. The hard floor is not forgiving, and I gasp when I torque my fingers.

The familiar burn of humiliation stains my cheeks, made worse because I know Diem witnessed my inglorious fall.

Glancing sideways, I see him standing behind Landon, a new guy who transferred in a week ago, with a blank iciness in his dark eyes. Where once they were filled with fire now those eyes look straight into my soul and leave me wanting.

I should know, I memorized every swirl of color in those irises. From the pale shades of umber that hug the outer circle, to the bright chunks of coal that surround the iris. He’s got beautiful peepers, and they express his hate and disdain in living color.

He cut his hair over winter break, and his long dark locks no longer brush his shoulders. Now they’re pushed back from his high forehead in sable waves.

I ran my fingers through that silky head of hair once and confirmed it was indeed as soft and lovely as I dreamed.

Trailing my eyes over his torso, I spy his T-shirt, stretched over his pecs. He’s still as beautiful as always but somehow, he seems impossibly bigger, turning into the man he’ll become in a few short weeks.

Ignoring the pulse in my chest, I rise to my feet and grab my throbbing fingers. I’m not much for coordination, a bit of a klutz, actually. The pain is confirmation of my inability to do anything fucking gracefully.

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