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Chapter six
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I am not going to sit here and lie to you, because I already lie enough as it is. So I will be slightly honest this time.
I was shaking. Like noticeably shaking. The entire first half of school I was jittery and on edge, and flinched at the slightest of movements Zavier made. I felt the way I did 11 years ago and I was more scared of myself than him because of that.
My hands were twitching constantly, every pencil I held I ended up tapping on the table or spinning between my fingers until Zavier would step on my foot under the table as a warning to stop. I felt paranoid about everything, flashbacks I tried so hard to forget were clouding my thoughts.
11 years ago I was ruined. And it took me years to learn to ignore the memories because forgetting them was impossible.
The second the bell rang for lunch I was basically out the door already, my heart picking up speed slowly even though nothing specifically was triggering the reaction. 11 years ago I was powerless, but it's different, right? Now I have power and strength, and now I can do what I didn't do 11 years ago. Right?
The urge to lash out at anything was creeping through my veins. I wanted to hurt someone because I couldn't hurt the person that I wanted to most. Was it psychopathic of me? To feel the undying need to stab someone sometimes? Or the urge to jump off the top of the school building just to see if I could feel the impact of my body crashing into the ground or if I would just die before feeling a thing?
Was it psychopathic or just intrusive thoughts? Whatever it was, I needed to get it under control. Most of the terrible things I've done were due to intrusive thoughts. Not that I necessarily hated doing it, or resented myself for falling into the trap.
"Hey," Zavier snapped, falling into pace with me, who I didn't realize was practically running with how fast my steps were. "Are you forgetting you're supposed to follow me, and not the other way around?"
I almost said sorry. Me? Saying sorry?? I really was going insane. Pressing my nails into the palms of my hands, trying to bite back the sudden urge to snap Zavier's neck, I stopped walking. "Are you forgetting that I don't care?"
"You're so bold for someone that almost started crying just this morning."
Images of my wrist almost getting sprained by the locker door flashed before my eyes. Blinking them away, I scoffed. "I haven't cried in years. Why would I because of that?"
And it was true. I can't remember the last time I cried. Sure a single tear would come out here and there. And god, trust me, I would trade my soul just to cry. But every time any sort of sadness overwhelms me enough to cry about it, only a few tears come out before it stops and my heart just feels heavy with dread.
