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( tw. panic attacks and an identity crisis)
KAT
THE TOOTHPASTE FELT EXTRA MINTY, and the tap water extra cold. Luckily, Kat had a 9 AM class. However, the grocery run still meant she had to wake up at 6. She made sure to turn the tap on barely half of the way, so the running water didn't wake Holly, who was sleeping a room over. She spat out the sludge of toothpaste and water, swirling mouthwash around for forty seconds before washing the bitterly sharp taste out. She sighed as she placed both uncovered hands on the ends of the porcelain sink bowl.
She felt like shit. And worse, she looked like it too.
However, glancing at the round purple clock on top of the toilet, she sighed. There was no time to hide how shitty she looked. Damn. She'd really lost it, huh? Her pillow smelled like the saltwater from her tears, the only thing dulling the pain being the silenced darkness. If Steve Harrington had lifted her up, but now she was shattering back down. The Ice Queen was about perfection, cold, icy beauty. Not a single hair out of place. But now? Now she was going on a grocery run before the sunrise in winter weather, no breakfast in her stomach, and coming back to a mother who she knew would never understand how she felt.
No. This was wrong. Years, years of practice had channeled her anger from her home to her school. Rising to the position of utter iciness had been built, brick by brick, by every harsh scold, every scarring word from her mother. A cast had been built, a mold perfectly fitting her. She belonged there. Yet, last night was both a nightmare and a dream. She hadn't laughed like that in years. The thrill of a simple run around a playground made her still-standing spirit begin to thump. Her mold had received its first crack, and boy, it felt so wrong, and so good.
Kat's heart was placed in a chest, locked up cold and perched on a throne. Yet, the pure gold sun that was Steve Harrington was gently melting the ice. And it was about to reach the chains.
Kat slowly let all her breath go, inhaling deeper than ever before. She allowed the air to hide, if not restore, the golden colored cracks in her black marble, before breathing the air back out.
Walking a bit shakily to her bedroom, she hurriedly slipped on her black leather glove as if it were a lifeline to her chilling disguise, hastily putting on a sweater over an undershirt. Slinging her wallet and coat over her back, she tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone in the house. She gently turned the doorknob, opening the door with a long but quiet creak.
Just as quick as how her mood changed last night, the First of December proved to its name. It wasn't windy, but sun barely lit up the sky, not providing any warmth from above the clouds threatening snow. Her body was covered in thick clothing, except for one hand and her face. The air, however, managed to nibble at her skin, sending chills down all five fingertips. It bit at her cheeks, causing the blood to raise in proud defense and the pink spreading across her face and nose. She hurried to her car, flinging off the insulating tarp that covered it and kicking it towards the frosted grass. Stepping inside in a jumble of cold, she plugged her keys into the ignition, pulling out of the driveway. Kat frantically turned the heating on, her mind pleading for the warmth to fill the car faster.
