Book Of Words

t w o o f s p a d e s

Horrible.

I felt horrible after the appointment.

It was as if tendrils of whatsoever-that's-creepy made its way to my heart, stomach, and brain, gripping it with such intensity that it wanted to self destruct. I want to self destruct, not in a painful way though which is unavailable since all self destructs are full of pain. 

Not only that I had to reveal the things in my past, I had them stamped so fresh in my brain as of the moment. Everything that day replayed in my mind so clearly like a movie I've memorized after watching it for hundreds, thousands, millions of times.

Mom's cold, lying and bloodied body. The huge open, bleeding wound on her neck. Dad died too easily(yes, I know that was harsh but that was the truth.). He couldn't fight against those men. He was too shocked after he was stabbed, maybe that's why he froze and died. It was my fault. I lost. I lost to a damn gamble that costs the lives of my parents. As I remembered, they had a huge debt and they couldn't pay so they were captured and those sickos(their captors) left a yellow sticky note on the fridge that said: WANT UR 'RENTS BACK? and insert some address of somewhere I couldn't remember anymore. 

I shook my head, hoping that if I shook it enough, the thoughts will be shaken off but they still clung to me as if they were a bunch of koalas clinging to a poor tree in which I was the poor tree. My tears began to drop and it's embarrassing. Trying to stop your tears while walking in a busy mall is embarrassing.

I stopped strolling and wiped my cheeks and eyelids. I felt some people's stare gluing on me as my tears fell endlessly and I was wiping it endlessly too. That's when I felt a pair of warm hands on my shoulders, telling me through body language that it's okay but when I looked up to see who it was, there was no one.

I was merely hallucinating. My mind wanted attention that it even created an illusion to comfort itself. Thanks, brain. Really but you had one job but you made me feel worse. You had but one job! 

I inhaled deeply and wiped the tears from my eyes. I am sure that my eyes were glassy but I tried my best to look happy. I patted my cheeks and did a fake smile. 

I'm going to okay. I'm going to be okay. My mind chanted but no, I'm pretty sure I'll never be okay. I'm not okay. (MCR, anyone?)

I walked to the parking lot to find my scooter. I paced back and forth for a couple of minutes before I found my sweetheart. When I found her, I jogged towards it and started the engine and revved away. I stopped before I went out of the parking and fumbled for my helmet (I can't believe I forgot, I would've been arrested) which was encased by a silver box behind me. I strapped it to my head as quickly as I could and continued my drive home.

My scooter was pretty. It was cerulean. The metallic version. Eren painted it for me. It's original color was white but since we decided it was too ugly and impractical, Eren painted it for me. My black helmet was all black, not metallic but matte black with a sticker stuck to its rear end that depicted Patrick the Star from Spongebob. 

Okay, I know you'll say, "Hey! But you walked on the way to your psychologist! Now, you have your scooter but you didn't ride it on the way to the doctor! What's your problem?". 

Yeah, what's your problem too? 

I'll explain, okay? 

First off, there some people in my school who know my number plate. If they see my scooter on parked in front of that building, they'll know I'm there and then a flood of gossip with flood through the campus worse than Yolanda and Irma. 

So yeah. I parked my scooter in the parking lot of a nearby mall and walked my way to the doctor, that way, it'll be more safer. Probably. 

The drive for home was long and boring. My eyes struggled to keep awake since the cold was chilly and it made me want to sleep. I tried my best to be awake for napping for fifteen seconds while driving means certain death. I bit my tongue and pinched my forearm. I wiggled my toes and cracked my neck. When the signal was red and I was brought to a stop, I flicked my forehead.