Him & I

16

Alright this chapter might be quite a touchy one. But a friend told me to cover as many topics as I could while of course, not missing the actual plot. The topic today is what I'll describe as grey. No right or wrong. No black or white. But you're permitted to have your own opinions, as long as they don't get personal. I.Have.None.Of.My.Direct.Opinions.Here.  And I'm not Melissa so don't come for me. *Inserts smiley face* But do leave your thoughts on every paragraph, I read every single comment.

"What do you mean, Pamela had an abortion?"

"Well," Amy folds both arms across her chest, eyes pointed directly at me as she shrugs, "exactly what you heard."

I stay fixed at my spot by the door, my hands gripping onto the cold tray for some kind of moral support. It's almost the only thing keeping me together and not breaking down the way she seems to want me to. Although it's hard. With every second of realizing this isn't a joke, it gets harder. Especially with how her announcement on my best friend was worded in the most casual way possible. Like this is as normal as talking about football on chill-at-home Sunday.  Or in her case, the new line of lipgloss from the Kardashian's youngest sister.

I move to drop the tray on the dress-table, not even properly reasoning as I avoid the mess of clothes and scattered bottle of pills on the floor. Despite the room being almost as large as my sister's, the clutter around makes it appear smaller. Feel smaller. Tighter. However, that could also be the weight of my confusion. And maybe Pamela's. She hasn't said a word, but distress stays written all over her face.

Amy's about the only perfect looking person in the room. Relaxed. Flawless. And still slaying in a uniform hours after school, despite the situation.

The second face I'd spotted on stepping into the room - that's when my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting - was Pamela's. I was certainly sure it couldn't be the flu anymore, if it was, then it had to be at the most chronic level. My mind went back to the cancer I'd thought of, but canceled it.

Now, i'm not sure what would've been better.

Like Amy's not in the room, I fix my pointed stare on Pamela who's standing sheepishly behind her. From the onset, it was clear I was the last person she'd expected to come over. Her widened eyes that later reduced in size, drifting to everything else but me, proved that. And her not wanting me here, I think was the first thing to hurt. If not the only thing. But I still force a stare on her.

"It's not true." I say as a statement, though uncertainty has it coming out as a question instead. Surely, if I was right then she'd have said something by now. Admit that this is all a joke. Laugh. I'd laugh too.

The red splotches on her cheeks could be overly applied blush. Sunken cheeks and visible loss of weight, a figment of my imagination.

"It's not true, right?" I hear myself plead this time. Yet i'm not only pleading for her sake but mine too. I'm pleading that if this were true, I'd be the first person she'd tell.  That in all possible events that probably led to this, I'd know enough to be able to stop it from happening in the first place. That...

And then i'm pleading for her sake.

She buries her face in both palms.

"Why would you do something like that? You wouldn't..." I also hear  myself whisper a 'you killed someone.'

"Don't be ridiculous, Melissa. And don't try to be religious." Hands still crossed over her chest, Amy begins making her way towards me with eyes like daggers. Her steps are slow, still as quick I am to back away. "From what I heard, you don't even like the idea of the big guy upstairs." A faded memory of telling Pamela I don't believe in God, comes flashing before my eyes. She told her. "Which is weird, coming from a goody two-shoes like you. Not a fan too but kinda makes me wonder what 'God' did to you."