Blues

47. Deep Blues

My eyes widen with shock, and instinctively, I fall back a few steps, but that doesn't remit me of Claire, who's coming at me like a choleric cat, her claws ready to puncture some eternal scars into my skin. Unluckily, I don't even get to evade her, tripping as I walk back, and she takes advantage of my disarmed state, bringing me down by my hair. I hiss at the prickly pain that shoots to my scalp, trying to free my hair from her hold, but she doesn't let it go. "How dare you? How dare you, you fucking slut?" She spouts, her eyes ferocious with wild fire.

"Claire!" I hear Dylan shouting, but the pain in my head reprobates my attempt to open my eyes, the loud yelling in the classroom chaotic enough to make me want to bang my head against the wall, just to get rid of that agony. Eventually, I get to push her off me, along with the help of Trent, who drags her away from me, his arms around her in a hermetic hold.

Here's the thing: I have always imagined myself in a cat fight. I'm a vexatious troublemaker like that. However, I always imagined myself fighting back, but now I feel so pathetic standing here holding my head, while she's immured, ready to rip me limb from limb. "Fucking let me go! Let me teach that bitch a lesson." She struggles against his hold, her teeth gritted and primed to butcher me.

"Settle the fuck down, Claire! Have you lost your mind?" Dylan reprimands her through gnashed teeth, his eyes wild with what looks like spleen, before he turns to me, his gaze softening a bit. "Are you okay?" He asks, his countenance revealing a hint of concern.

"Are you okay?" Claire blusters, looking affronted. "Are you serious, Dylan? Haven't you seen the goddamn video?"

It's my turn to parade toward her, ignoring my throbbing head. "After what you just did, I'm tempted to let the other video out too. You know, the one in which your mom was trying to seduce my grandpa. But alas, that would be confused with porn." It's just a lie to instigate her anger and humiliation even more.

I hear a series of gasps and snickers, but my attention stays fixated on Claire, whose expression deforms from horrified to malicious and riley. "I'll fucking ruin you!"

"Oh, really?" I heft one eyebrow up. "Because you've spouted that before, yet everything you do to me backfires. I wouldn't fuck with me again, if I were you."

"Enough!" Dylan yells, casting his attention to me. "Enough, Candice!" He hisses, his tone laced with pique and impatience.

My eyes flicker to his, before I allow myself to scrutinize him, my bearing a bit patronizing. Strutting close to him, I step onto the front of my sneakers, brushing my lips against his ear. He tenses up, and it spawns a sense of elation inside of me. "You can shove that order up your lying ass. I'm the one who decides when enough is enough." I counter. "I just keep wondering; why do people make promises that they can't keep?"

I don't wait to see his reaction, partly because all I want to do, is cry my eyes out and shove painkillers down my throat until the sun goes down. Stepping back, I survey the room, not really seeing or thinking about anything, except for that night.

The night we bonded. The night he promised to never leave. The night I aviated with my blue angel amongst the delicate, nocturnal stars, with tearful eyes and a rapturous heart. That night, I was with someone different from the guy who stands in front of me, the one who watched me unfold in his arms, yet he still left. I don't wait for him to provide me with an answer, because I already understand.

Such beautiful promises are always made after long, enrapturing moments. They beguile and embosom you, but when morning comes and the light spreads, the sun flashes reality at you, and only the blind wouldn't be able to see it.

And I was blinded by his love.

I take the silence in the room as my cue to leave, hoisting my bag from the ground, where it fell earlier when Claire lunged at me, before I saunter out.