HER

Part 2

The alarm rang too loudly for my ears. I groaned, never bothering to look up, and just palmed my hands over the annoying alarm clock while my eyes were completely shut.

I hoisted myself up and come face to face with the mirror. My face is heart-shaped, with a pointy little nose and pouty lips. My skin was pale and this explained why I never liked reflections. They showcased the truth, revealed this side of you- what you lack about, what you hate and the funny thing was that consciously speaking, we embraced it as our day to day life. There was nothing we can do. That was our features until the day we all die.

I was a mess.

I realized it was morning. The last thing I remembered was that I never slept an ounce. My hair was sticking out in different directions. My baggy pants smelled and my face was still the same. A wreck. My bed was unmade and I started to straighten up to tidy my blanket and cleaned the floor. It had been days since it was left like that. The laundry full of used clothes, the bed wrinkled with a fussy blanket, the bookshelves disorganized, the floor rumpled with paintings, tumbled canvases.

Days of depression and insomnia, and... loneliness.

When I couldn't sleep at night, Tria would hug me and tell me to think of a future life where we can paint our own houses and buy all the things we want. Right now, I would paint on canvases to spare the time for leisure until I could doze off. Last night it was around 3 am, when I was using graphite sketching, learning over the fundamentals of body anatomy, did some hatch crossing, and abstract painting as well.

After cleaning up, I took a hot shower and cooked my breakfast. It is Monday, April 27. I am not fond of numbers. It is a good day to ride my mountain bike. Tria's mountain bike. She was an athlete. I couldn't seemed to let go of all of her stuff for the fear of solitary. Living alone in a home with no one else to talk to tend to be overbearing and dreadful. If little lily was around, it would have lessened the grief I'm having.

As I came downstairs, I looked to my left and found Mom cooking breakfast. The scent of a sunny side up filled in the air.

She is in her bunny apron that she loves so much, too busy cooking over bacon and omelet. It is a beautiful morning. The sun is up and shinning.

"Hey, I'm gonna show you something." Tria rounded the kitchen table where I was seated and smiled at me giddily. "Come on! Come on! Come on!"

"No. Not yet sweetheart. Please eat your breakfast before anything else." Mom gave Tria a look as she shook her head and made Tria sit beside me.

Tria pouted as she reached for a bowl from the kitchen top drawer. She then sat next to me grabbing the cereal which is right next to me. "But Mom!"

"Tria, just eat your breakfast and then you can do whatever you want." Mom only smiled at her in response.

Dad was on my left, reading his newspaper, drinking his coffee like always.

Mom went around the table and kissed Dad on the cheeks. "It is almost 8 hon, you might be late for your meeting with the clients."

"Ew Dad! Stop with the smooching!" Tria made a disgusted face, making me giggle. "Stop it!"

A sad smile playing on my lips as I sat alone in the kitchen watching the last memory of my family dispersed into nothingness.

School

"Watch out dork."

I sighed. I think from the view up here you could tell why I desperately wanted to be away from this life, my life. I wouldn't call it bullying. People just have a way of becoming rude to you, their shady side gives you the awful and most realist intentions.

" Yo." A curly hair popped behind me as I walked towards the school drawers.

"Hey, Mark."I replied in my outmost grumpy tone. I mean, who wouldn't be?

"I am sorry about your sister." His tone was sincere and that was why being with him for seven years in our lives both elementary and high school was the same goes as I could tell twins apart.

I didn't recall myself a nerd and Mark and I weren't stereotypes. We aren't "the crowd" either. We don't blend that way. And no... we are not the teenage lovers, the usual people make out by the halls or witches, superheroes trying to save the world.

I don't know. I don't think too much in that aspect. I was too busy wondering what would be their reaction when I planned my death, just days ago. Well, I might not see it eventually but my ghost can.

"It's okay..." My eyes wandered as we passed by Gabby kissing the hotshot Jerald.

I felt my bile rising.

Gross.

Mark dryly watching at the direction I was and his face twisted disgustingly.

"Yo Guys, wazzup? " Both arms slung between us. Mary was sandwiched as she tried to squeeze in our inner circle. Her clueless head moved side to side looking for news-sweets we liked to call the usual 'public scandal' when one of the cheerleaders liked to join in the band. This happens almost every day since the squad search for recruits. You might call it outlandish but 'normal band request' is our term here. "Yuck!"

"We know." Mark and I said it in unison.

"Good morning to you too, Mare." I smirked as Mark rolled his eyes and Mary made an "augh" tone of hers. "And it is not the end of it, there's more."

"Remind me why I have to be here?" Mary moaned.

"What?" I asked innocently.

Mary and I met in high school where she was cornered by Jerald's friends asking if she would like to go on a date with one of his friends Dam. Jerald is the lead singer of Dam's group. That's what made him so popular. He was straight A's in class too. It makes me think to myself how he has done all these in college.

We silently gazed the part where Jerald groped Gabby's bum. Then someone from behind the crowd shouted, "Slap her arse!"

Then, Jerald did it.

I winced at the most scandalous thing that happened ever since the policy was created.

No one ever did slap someone and touch them like that. Ever.

Christine was next in line right after Gabby was pulled for a while by another football member.

Jerald's smirk widened as he came face to face with Christine, shaking in fear. She might know the worse but she never thought it was this worst.

"There is more from where that came from." Jerald raised both of his eyebrows at the poor Christine. This explains the part where the cocky Jerald exposes what he truly is. An abominable player.

Jerald could be the campus prince, in every girl's dream, the heartthrob in every woman's fairytale if he wasn't so... so how do you call that? A womanizer.

I suddenly thought of Tria, at her age who never got a boyfriend, never been kissed. It is heart wrenching why she was taken away from me so young. She could have been more, better, and do stuff's twenties usually does.

Mary hugged me. She smiled and said, "you alright?"

Everyone I know knew about the accident. They've come to share their condolences. And I understand it. But I don't want their pity. It is not like saying they're sorry's could bring her back.