Chapter 5

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WARNING: MENTION OF SELF HARM

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2 weeks later

It was the first lesson and I honestly didn't believe I would attend. Actually I had planned to stay in bed and never leave the house again. But here I was, sitting in the last row, alone, staring at my desk as we waited for the teacher to enter the room.

Nobody noticed. Nobody saw it and, fuck, people could be blind. Why are people so blind? They just didn't want to see it, right? Was it so unimportant? I was glad that no one noticed me and what was wrong with me, but at the same time I wondered why. Nobody knew who I was, what I did last night. But to be fair, neither did I know anything about the others.

Suddenly I noticed someone sitting next to me and looked up.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Philip asked and I looked at him in confusion. "We should split up because our teacher is stuck in a traffic jam and they don't trust us to stay alone in a gooddamn room." he immediately clarified me. "What lesson do you have now?" 

"English." I answered shortly and already heard how the teacher entered the classroom. Philip wasn't the only one of his class to find his way here, but I didn't know the others. Philip was still suspect to me.

"You're not a morning person, are you?" he asked with a gentle smile and for a moment I just stared at him. Something in me just wanted him to shut up, but something else was amazed that he was still talking to me.

"Not really." I answered after a while.

The teacher asked for the homework and suddenly I felt like I was in elementary school. In our old school, teachers have never been interested in homework. That could be one reason I didn't have them or the reason was the incident last night. Incident, as if it had been an accident. It wasn't.

My mind jumped back to yesterday. I had spent the whole day in my bed and slept. Something felt wrong. Everything felt wrong and probably it was. My home was in Wokingham, instead I rotted in a hut in a completely different part of England. My school was in Wokingham, all the people I knew were in Wokingam.

Although I had lost contact with so many, in fact everyone, but I would have picked it up again if I had felt better. Now I was sitting here and I didn't know if I would ever feel better and if so, what I would do then. Because I had no desire to rebuild everything.

When I got home, Addy was already there to cook something. I hated that sight. Not because she couldn't cook, but because someone else was supposed to be in the kitchen

She put a plate in front of me and said that she would go out with some people, if I want to join here. I said no, and she hesitated. She had asked if she could leave me alone and I nodded, put on a fake smile, and after a few minutes she left the house.

I woke up in the evening and noticed after a while that I still was alone. Slowly I started to feel even more lonely than I already did. Even if I wanted to talk, nobody would be there. I couldn't expect that someone was always there all the fucking time. And if it got bad, I could still call Addy. The truth, however, was that I didn't want to talk.

My eyes went to my bookshelf, to a very specific book. The hiding spot.

"You can't do that forever." I heard the voice of my dad in my head and I hated it. Because that's exactly what I had in mind.

There would be nobody who could say or do the right thing. No therapy that would make me forget what I had seen. What I had felt.

Slowly I crawled out of my bed and walked towards the shelf, whereupon I quickly pulled out the book and opened it.

And since then there have been scars that were a little newer than the other new scars. Towels were soaked in blood, the book was put back on the shelf.

And while in the end it hadn't changed anything about my situation, it had changed something at the moment. Because for a few minutes, I didn't think about what had happened. I just thought about how blood gathered in the fresh wounds and felt nothing else except the warm liquid running down my arms.

Some time later I found myself with a cigarette on my roof again. I probably use all sorts of ways to completely destroy my body.

My arms and lungs burned.

"Just because you're new doesn't mean that you get a special treatment." my teacher said sternly and ripped me out of my memories. I didn't answer. I didn't care, because there were thousands of other reasons why I could get a special treatment. Nobody knew what that was because I didn't want special treatment.

While she was still busy teaching me a lesson I wasn't interested in, I felt like everyone was looking back and forth between us. I ignored all eyes and only looked forward. I explicitly ignored Philips's gaze.

"Should I hand them over later?" I asked after two minutes. Not polite, not naughty, just emotionless. As if I don't care what the answer would be.

"No, you should have done it."

Holy shit, I rolled my eyes and was glad that she didn't freak out because of this. She turned around and started writing something on the blackboard.

"You shouldn't care about that." I heard Philip whisper.

"I don't."

"Your hands say something different." My eyes immediately focused on them, and I discovered that they were trembling slightly.

What the hell?

I didn't care, why did my body care? Why did my body always do what it shouldn't do?

Slowly I took my hands off the table and tried to hold them tight.

"Concentrate on something else, the woman up front doesn't matter." Actually, my brain was rejecting the thought of looking at him, but I did anyway.

I watched as he took my notebook and began to write off the board. At first I was confused until I understood what he was doing and I didn't mean to smile, but I did.

"We want to go to the sports field in the forest today or tomorrow, do you want to join us?"

Was he really trying to distract me?

"Sure." I answered. My brain cells don't work anymore, obviously.

"Cool, I'll let you know later." I nodded understandingly, watching him write off. Who volunteers to write something off the board? Who is voluntarily so nice?

Something in me wanted to ask him why he was so nice? What exactly were his motives, but I didn't dare. Whyever I didn't dare. Maybe I would find out someday.

At least I learned something interesting about him at this lesson.

A girl, I think her name was Alice, turned to him and asked him something that he affirmed.

"Did you really break up with Charlie?"

~~~
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