Page 3 of Fragmented Illusions
When they see Nat and me walking up the steps, they smirk our way before continuing their conversations. They definitely won’t be back tonight.
Once we’re inside, the music instantly increases in volume—“Nihil” by Ghostemane, I think. It’s so loud I’m tempted to cover my ears, but I don’t because that would be weird, and I’m not weird.
I’ll never be the weird girl again.
“I’m gonna go try to find Nate,” Natalie yells in my ear, trying to be heard over the noise, and I nod, not even bothering with attempting to speak. I smile at her before she turns left to push her way through the sea of bodies bumping and dancing on each other.
I make my way to the kitchen where I know the majority of the alcohol is. I don’t plan on getting drunk, but I need something to help with these nerves and besides, it would look odd if I came to a college frat party anddidn’tdrink.
It’s all about putting out the perfect picture.
Sometimes all I want is to stop trying.
But I can’t. I can’t stop trying. Because if I do, I know the voices—theurges—will come back. Not trying means I stop taking my meds, and I know for an absolute fact that is something I can’t do. Mother said I need them because they are what makes me normal. Without them, I’m just… lost to it all.
I can’t ever feel the urges again.
They should terrify me with the things they make me do… But I don’t think they do scare me.
Shaking my head and forcing my most painful memories away, I pull open the silver double doored fridge and grab a beer. It’s a Bud Light, which isn’t my favorite, but it’ll do the job all the same.
I pop the top on the glass bottle and bring it to my lips. My fake fangs bump against the opening of the bottle as I suck down half of it before I force it from my mouth, remembering I can’t drink too much.
Alcohol affects my medication and I need them more than I need the buzz. I hold my beer in one hand, and in my other I grip the bottle cap. I can feel the raised edges digging into my skin, creating an imprint in the delicate flesh of my palm. If I were to open my hand right now, the outline from the bottle cap would be a light red, with a small indentation, but if I were to leave it, if I were to clench my fist just a little tighter…
I feel the cap press further into my skin, the metal ridges biting into my flesh. The longer I keep my hand like this, the deeper the red the outline will become.
“Hey, are you new this year?” A nasally voice breaks through my mental fog, and I startle. The metal cap slips from my hand and bounces against the counter I’m standing next to. I glance down and watch as it bounces a few times before it begins spinning around, and around, and around, before finally settling with a light clank.
I hear someone clear their throat and I jump at the sound, suddenly remembering what broke me out of my trance.
“My apologies, I must’ve zoned out. What did you say?” I laugh lightly, the noise sounding forced, even to me, but the man standing in front of me doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.
“I asked if you were new this year,” he replies. I finally force myself to look at more than just his arms and what I see actually has me smiling, albeit very shyly.
Trenton Williams.
No way.
He’s the most well-known guy at school. He’s popular, hot as hell, and captain of the football team. I never in a million years dreamed he would even acknowledge my existence, but here he is, talking tome.
That’s because you’re friends with the popular girls now, Fallon. You’re not the unstable, fucked up girl anymore.
Yes, you are.
You’ll always be that girl.
Swallowing down the bile threatening to shoot up my throat at an incredibly rapid speed, I take a swig of my beer before answering.
“Yes. I transferred in this year.” I give Trenton a small smile before taking another drink.
“I thought so,” he responds thoughtfully. “You’re friends with Natalie and them, right?” he adds.
Aaannnddd there it is. I’m just the shy, pretty girl who is friends with the hot, popular girls. Of course someone like Trenton wouldn’t be interested in me.
“Yeah,” I answer with another small smile as I finish off my beer.
So many smiles.
