Beautiful Tiger

Chapter 2.

I had decided to ditch all the rest of my classes for the day because it was Friday, so why in the hell not?

My roommate wasn't there because she was enduring her classes, so it was great to cry and let everything out instead of having a pillow blockading my sobs. She just so happens to be Samantha Spoggins, cousin of the blonde serpent, Elizabeth Spoggins. Their dads were both brothers, but Samantha's died before she was born or so I've heard. She's brunnette though, not blonde. She's also not as mean as you would think, but maybe it's because she's hardly ever at our dorm. And when she is, she isn't devoting her time to annoy and pick on me. It's almost as if she isn't even there.

Our dormitory isn't the one where you have two beds across from each other in one room and have no bathroom because there's only the community bathrooms. Thank God for that.

Our living space has a small bathroom, enough space for two, a small kitchen area with a fridge and no stove, but a hot plate, a small living room with a balcony, and two separate bedrooms. Everything was small, but it was better than no kitchen, no living room, and no bathroom altogether.

Samantha was slowly moving out and into Elizabeth's dorm because Elizabeth's roommate was moving back home because she didn't like sharing with a snobby stranger... She'd told me this in our Literature class when I asked her why she didn't like living with Elizabeth. I thought of offering her to move in with me, but decided against it, because I knew nothing of her but her first name: Chyna, which is ironic, considering she's Asian.

Samantha told me not to take it personal about her moving out because the last two months with me have been a blast, (though we rarely actually talked) but she couldn't take not being able to blast her music because I was reading. At least she respected that much of me to even oblige and not play her music aloud. She liked to be messy and I didn't. She would be more comfortable with her cousin. I didn't care at all, if anything, now it was as if I owned my own little apartment.

Give it another week, I told myself, then she'll be gone, and you don't have to ever hear another estranged moan or pleasured scream again coming from the next room late at night.

After I felt as if nothing had happened today when my eyes didn't burn from tears anymore, my cheeks weren't hot, my knee no longer hurt from falling, my nose wasn't bleeding and my head wasn't pounding, I took out my newly cracked iPhone to surf social medias like a normal person, except everyone I was friends with on the internet lived in different countries, states, or cities. I had never actually met any of them, but they were friendlier than people around me everyday in real life.

On the internet, I could be someone I wasn't in real life and I could be popular. On twitter I had 43.2k followers, you'd never believe it. On Instagram I had 162k followers, but I only posted pictures of my favorite bands. I had many friends if they counted. In fact, currently I had 82 unread texts. I was popular somewhere at least.

There were three slow knocks at the door that made me go still. I listened closely to see if it was Samantha who left her key, Elizabeth looking for Samantha, or some other kid trying to sell marijuana brownies on the down low. The knocks then became impatient after half a minute and I knew it was Samantha. I rushed to the door before the knocks could get crucial. She should have just text me.

I unlocked the door and tossed it open in a hurried motion, trying to walk away quickly, to avoid the light that was coming in. Just as quick as I had turned to leave, I turned towards the door again, stopping dead in my tracks. I hid myself slightly behind the door. It wasn't Samantha. Instead, here standing in the corridor, knocking at my door at one in the after noon was none other than Hunter Brooks.

He's looking for Elizabeth, I tell myself, don't panic.

He should have just called her or something!