Page 4 of Heal Me

Him:How many times have you skipped class this week?

Me:It’s just the second time.

Him:It's Tuesday, Ami.

I roll my eyes, wishing he could see that.

Him:I'll come over to your place after work.

If you can call it work, he's lying in bed all day, clicking buttons on a laptop and getting paid a lot of money for it.

Of course, I'm glad that Sebastian decided to stay and work in Kyiv when I finally decided to go to university, but the fact that he comes to my dorm every day is starting to get annoying.

Me:No way, I have plans.

Him: What plans?

Me:A therapy session to get rid of my annoying brother.

I send the text message and turn off the phone. I exhale and close my eyes.

"Rough day?"

Whoever that voice belongs to, I want to kill it.

I turn my head to the right to see who is talking to me. I notice a student, probably a fifth year.

"Why do you care?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Just asking," he smiles out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, is that it?" I change my tone to a more friendly one.

"What?" he is surprised.

"The smile that makes everyone jump into bed with you."

"Yes, babe, and not only do they jump into bed, but then they can't get over the unforgettable night for a week. Did it work?" I start laughing. As loudly as I can.

"Yes, it worked. Now I want to kill myself so I never have to see your smile again."

He moves closer to me and whispers in my ear:

"Let's see who has the last laugh," his rough and low voice echoing in the pit of my stomach.

I haven't been with anyone for over three years. I forgot how it feels to have someone's body on top of me. And he noticed it. Fuck.

"You're the last person I'll ever end up in bed with," I wink and get on the bus that finally pulls up.

When I take my seat by the window and see him staring at me with his penetrating brown eyes like the trunk of an ancient tree, I pretend to be struck to the core. A smile spreads across his face, dimpling his cheeks, and I smile too, and then take my hand out of my pocket and give him my middle finger.

Your spell does not work on me, Prince Charming. Indeed, if someone was choosing to draw the prince in the Shrek cartoon, they were familiar with this Mr. "everyone's favourite, who thinks that one smile will knock anyone off their feet". The only thing is that his hairstyle is shorter and his hair is darker, almost perfectly brown.

But not so perfect that you would faint for it. For some reason, I'm sure the donkey was also drawn from his face. With his hair seemingly randomly unstyled and flying in all directions, he spent the whole morning trying to look like "I'm so cool I don't even need a comb". Though I can't help but notice his sharp cheekbones, which the most famous sculptors would fight over to get the right to sculpt his statue. His confident gaze is still directed at me and it seems like I can still feel his warm breath on me.

I turn away and close my eyes, trying to focus on other thoughts. I wish I hadn't left my headphones in the room.

I feel like I'm drowning. Slowly, but so painfully, the abyss is pulling me deeper and deeper. Day by day, my time bomb, or as normal people call it, "heart", is slowly killing me. Every day I lose my chance to live. And the worst part is that I don't even worry about it. I do not care. I have nothing to live for. Yes, I am selfish because my family loves me and I should live at least for them, but I have no place in this world.

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