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All class period, I stare at the back of her head, telling myself it’s not worth the trouble to toss my pen or maybe even the chair I’m sitting on, at the back of her head.
As soon as the professor excuses us, I start to gather my things and get up to leave. I’m walking down the center aisle toward the double doors when someone’s elbow jabs into my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs, and books onto the floor.
“Oh, sorry,” Arabella giggles as she continues walking by me. It takes all my restraint not to grab her hair and pull her down onto the floor. The only thing keeping me from doing that is knowing that if I get into a fight, I can kiss my scholarship goodbye.
Her cronies follow behind her, each kicking one of my books across the floor as they do. “Oops,” they cackle in unison. Luckily, we’re in the back of the class, and no one seems to notice the scene unfolding, or no one cares.
I wait until the teacher, as well as most of the students, have left the room before I start to collect my books off the ground. One geeky looking guy ends up helping me pick them up, probably feeling sorry for me. I give him a grateful smile before he disappears from the room.
On the way home, I hold the backpack strap so tightly I think I might rip it in two with my grip. I want to punch something… or someone so badly. The anger inside of me building, ready to explode at any given moment.
It’s not just the skank squad who has my fury at the tipping point. It’s everything, everything combined, like a hundred small patches of fire have finally come together, and formed into one huge blaze, large enough to burn down half the rainforest.
All of the things I’ve been holding on to, suppressing, shoving deep, and trying to drown with alcohol are now bubbling up to the surface. I’m no longer able to keep it down and contained. By the time I get to the dorm, I’m basically speed walking. All I want to do is get to the room, lock myself in, and the rest of the world out.
Everything sinks a little lower when I enter the room and find that Delilah is not here. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. I don’t want her to see me like this, but I could really use a friend right now. Anybody, but that’s just it. I have no one. I’m all alone… I have no one.
Tears I didn’t know I was holding back start falling down my face without permission, and the pain in my chest migrates down into my gut. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.
I want to make the loneliness go away, the pain of losing them still hurts so bad, it feels like I just lost them yesterday, and I’m reliving the moment over and over again. My soul is shattered beyond repair. There’s no saving me. Nothing can fix this kind of pain.
Not knowing any other way to make it go away, to numb the pain, I reach for the bottle of wine from beside my bed. Not even bothering to get a glass, I unscrew the cap and bring it to my lips. I tip the bottle back until the tangy alcohol fills my mouth. I don’t know how much was left, but I don’t sit the bottle back down until it’s empty, the contents sinking heavily into my stomach, warming me from the inside out.
More. I need more.
Never before did I feel the need to use drinking as much to cover up my pain, to numb it. I thought I was done with this after my grandparents sent me to rehab. I thought I had gotten past this. Until I came to North Woods. Until him. I didn’t expect him to be here, didn’t expect him to be the Dean of the university. A bitter bubble of laughter escapes my lips, that would be my luck.
I hate myself a little more each day. I’m alive. I get to go to classes. Get to experience life, fall in love, get married, have kids. I get to do everything my sister never got to. My chest aches so badly it feels like something is trying to rip its way out, and the only way I can stop it is to get some more to drink.
There should be another bottle around here somewhere, but I don’t remember where I hid it, so I start digging through the room, opening every drawer, every cabinet. Aimlessly, I tear the room apart, looking in every nook and cranny, getting more aggravated by the minute, the longer it takes me to find it.
