Rolling fake dice

s i e r r a l y n n

    I'm so sick of running as fast as I can

     Wondering if I'd get there quicker
                    if I was a man

             And I'm so sick of them
               coming at me again

               'Cause if I was a man,
                then I'd be the man

               The man - Taylor Swift

If Lowell High had been a cage for me, today was the last straw on my splitting spine. Eyes prying at my every movement, hushed whispers of rumors and lies spreading like wildfire into the merciless hallways of this damned school, all day, the whispers did nothing but become a lot nastier.

'Have you heard what she did?'

'They said she hooked up with Lennox ?'

'He fought Carmichael for her.'

'The teacher's slut turned into Lennox's whore.'

I curl up further , trying to choke back the tears forming at the base of my throat, bitter and poisonous, ripping at my chest like a thousand knives. My room's curtains are closed, shadows rule over the not so pretty mess, my clothes are piled messily on my desk's chair, and I sit a few feet away from my bed, my elbows rest on my knees as I try to block their words away from my ears.

'Slut !"

'Whore'

'Fake'

'Liar'

'Hypocrite'

Papa had surprisingly come to pick me up today after school, but I hadn't uttered a word, only looking away from both him and Ray, since we drove her after Emrys got suspended. I am now alone, drowning into the silence and screams of my own head, a hell, a prison, a panic room designed from my own insecurities.

"Sierra ?" The door knocks softly, but still makes me flinch at the sudden sound. Papa's voice sounds gentle, worried "Open the door for me, sweetheart." He calls quietly.

"It's open." I call back, voice scratchy and my lungs burn so vividly. It's been days since I talked to him, I might have been pushed to be there with them for dinner every night, but I still wouldn't -couldn't- look him in the eyes. I cast my eyes down to the floor, not daring to look him in the eyes, too ashamed, top scared that if he'd look close enough, he'll see the cracks inside me, the shattering glass inside my heart, the doubts and shadows and ghosts.

"Hey, what's wrong, Cielo?" He asks, his voice indicating his worry. I don't lift my head, don't loosen my grip on my ears, I just mutter flatly "I'm fine."

He releases a sharp breath and before I could say anything else, he sits beside me on the cold hard floor, his right arm resting on his knee. He tilts his head to look at me, but I still don't move my sight to meet his own. "Sia, please look at me." He commands sternly. I shake my head and mumble "I... I can't."

I catch a glimpse of his tightening expression, he tilts my head for me to look straight at him "That wasn't a request, Sierra Lynn. What the hell is wrong with you? And don't you dare to say that you're fine, or I'll cancel your spotify premium." He threatens, knowing that I'll cave in at the menace of losing the right to my music.

"It's just a teenage drama." I sigh, trying to give him a convincing smile and a brief eye contact, one that is supposed to break the growing shame and suffocation in my throat. His hand finds my hair, softly smoothing it.

I keep silent, I simply lean against his shoulder. I inhale his scent, of Musk and sandalwood, and the occasional cigarettes he smokes whenever he is extremely stressed. "You don't have to worry about it." I assure

His arm tucks me further against him, he places his chin on top of my head and mutters "I worry when you hide things from me, Sia. So this isn't going to work, I need you to let me help you, Cielo."

I wish I can tell him, I wish I can cry in his arms and break down and curse the rest of the world away, I wish I could cry all of my tears out and sleep in his embrace like I used to do when I was a little girl, I wish I could forget everything by just one fascinating story from him, but he already carried enough heartbreak before, he had protected me enough, and now is the time for me to be responsible for myself."I'm not hiding anything, Papa." I snuggle further against him. He sighs in defeat and mutters "Okay."

We both stay silent before I speak, voice merely a whisper "Why does women always have to be the target?" I ask "Why do men always get away with things?"

I wanted to know why I had to be the one attacked and being called names when Emrys is living the life. Not that I want him to live through this hell too, but because... because it isn't fair.

I feel him freeze beside me, his fingers cutting their movement through my hair, but he finally answers "People support women, until said women become better than them." He states "Why? Did anyone bother you?" I shake my head with no explanation. "Sierra Lynn." He insists

"No one bothered me, papa." I lie smoothly, trying to seem unbothered, "I'm fine, I just... I needed to hear that." I admit "Thank you."

He rests his chin on top of my head, kissing it gently as he mutters something I couldn't hear. I can't help but close my eyes , soothed by his presence far better than any moment of solitude. I cling to him, like he's going to disappear if I let go. He must've noticed, because he starts humming softly, without stopping his strokes on my hair.

But February made me shiver

With every paper I'd deliver.

Bad news on the doorstep;

I couldn't take one more step.

Sleep starts luring my eyes, a luxury I haven't afforded in days, papa's warmth and smell lulls me to the blessing of unconsciousness, warm and fuzzy. My thoughts start getting hazier, more incoherent, and even the discomfort of my position doesn't stop me from slipping away.

I can't remember if I cried

When I read about his widowed bride,

But something touched me deep inside

The day the music died...

And just like that, I slipped away, surely, slowly, softly...

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October 9th;

Blood...

Wrath...

Emrys...

Warmth...

Safety....

Papa...

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