Not That Bad #Wattys2018

Chapter Thirteen

Thanks to soundthealarm for an amazing cover. Do check out her story: Divine

It's no surprise my parents aren't home when I get back. Actually, it's perfect. I like having the house all to myself. A note on the fridge says:

There are quesadillas in the oven, with the pepper jack cheese you like.

Love you sweetheart.

Aw.

I eat two, then turn up my music really loud. The last time the neighbors tried to complain about the volume of my music, I gave them a death glare and they never mentioned it again. I guess that's one business tactic I learned from my mom.

My music is so loud I can hear Rihanna all the way upstairs. I'm dancing around the house and sliding across the floors. I don't think I've ever been so excited in my life. I take a shower, quick, quick, quick, to build the suspense and then sit in front of the mirror in my room.

I smile at myself, my I'M THE BOSS smile, but really, I'm nervous. So freaking nervous. I can't believe how much my hand is shaking as I put my hair into a top knot. I'm holding a red hand-held mirror at the back of my neck but my eyes are closed. Like I said, SO FREAKING NERVOUS.

One.

Two.

Three.

F...

I open my left eye first, then my right. It takes a few seconds for me to focus on that spot at the nape of my neck, where all the baby hairs are. But then I see it.

I didn't think I could scream louder than my music.

I really didn't.

***

I'm not the crying type of girl. I'm not the kind who cries in the middle of a sad movie or at the end of a happy one. I WON'T CRY when a lot of hair comes out in the comb or if I break a nail and I don't cry after a break up (except that one time that I'm trying to forget). But when everything seems to be going so horribly wrong, when everything is so fucked up, I can't help but fell the tears coming hot and fast.

Because, at the back of my neck is not A keyhole like I wanted, or A something. Instead, it's just a big fat A. Taunting me. Horrible. Permanent.

And then I'm just pissed. All I want to do is go back to that tattoo parlor and beat the crap out of that guy. But I can't move. I can't leave my house like this. It's so embarrassing. And I can't wear my hair down forever, I mean, it will be summer soon. So I stay on my bed and cry. And then I find myself doing something horrible. I'm calling Eli.

"It's the end of the world, Eli." I say, instead of hello.