❝she was the girl, who bit the horizon, who peeled the stars from the sky and put them on her tongue, the girl who was hungry for the universe, who craved magic and saw the broken boy for who he truly was- a broken boy.❞
Beca...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DEDICATED TO CINAMMONROLLSHADOW. YOU'VE LIKE COMMENTED ON EVERYTHING. SERIOUSLY, YOU'RE THE BEST.
EDITED 25/12/16
Chapter 2
Fear Escaping The Body
Jem
It was the first day back to the semester when I realised I was screwed, and not in the way I usually wanted to either. I was mostly screwed because I was stuck in the Principal's office, with a grumpy Headmaster who definitely not had his morning coffee, but I was also screwed because I was in the same room with Ellis Chan, about to get canned for something that she did. It was not having to attend detention for the hundredth time I was fussed about, it was the fact that if detention happens....I could be facing expulsion.
But before everything had happened, I was looking onwards of a positive day. By positive I meant I skillfully manage to avoid my passed-out drunk father when I woke this cold morning, my legs numb from the thin rag sheet draped over my body.
What can I say? I was an optimist.
I groggily sat upright and rubbed my eyes, groaning as my shoulder screamed in pain.
The house reeked of a distinct alcohol-vomit smell; the grimy yellow coffee-stained walls greeting me the instance my eyes fluttered. I groaned and dragged myself into the shower, staggering into the bathroom, as the shower knobs creaked with uncertainty. Sporadic jets of cold water spurted out from the showerhead, switching on and off but I was able to wash my hair, rinse my body and brushed my teeth without making so much of a peep.
When I finished dressing and used the crappy concealer bought from the nearest pharmacy to hide the blooming purple bruises marred on my shoulder, I pulled on my shoes and snuck out of the house safely. I let out a sigh, which fogged up into silky mists like cobwebs and shut the door with a minor creak. That was close.
I worked my shoulder as I sat on the bus, trying to see if it still hurt from the night before. Pain shot up my arm and I winced, shutting out the feeling.
Pain
Pain.
Pain.
Useless, my father told me in his drunken slur. Pain was useless. Yet the word burned in my mind every time I tried to shift in my seat, my shoulder aching as I wanted to achieve comfort. The word was stuck on replay, like a broken record forced to repeat. Pain was a physical or mental suffering caused by illness or injury. Just four letters. Pain, my father wisely said as the beer bottle smashed on the floor last night, was fear escaping the body.
That was what he called pain.
It was fear escaping the body.
Getting too deep for you there, Jem.
I killed my depressing thoughts and took out my trusty silver flash of my doctored 'medicinal purposes' whisky. I chugged down several gulps. The rush of the buzz consumed me as I slipped it back into my pack, the burning taste of whisky scorched my throat as I cleared it and licked my lips. Suddenly, the day brightened and I grinned at the prospect of heading back to the school.
