Permanent Scars

Murder City

November 12, Tuesday. 11:47 a.m.

People at school have been staring at me like I've crawled out of a hellmouth. I am one hundred percent on edge. Jumpy. Can't sit still. Can't focus. I keep feeling everyone's eyes boring holes into me like lasers.

We've only just made it through first period and I'm already shaking so bad. Adam, moody and withdrawn, sulking beneath his hood like the bitter cloud of darkness that he is, doesn't seem present enough to notice. If he is present, then he's just not saying anything. Shaking makes me clumsy. I've walked into three different doorways, dropped my things more times than I can count, and I cannot seem to speak a coherent sentence. To make things worse, Mia's been hanging around and her intentions are plainly far from the best. Dylan...he's jumpy enough on his own. The two of us together...that's just a disaster waiting to erupt. Which, of course, is exactly what's been happening.

"Are you calm?" He hisses, approaching me as I pull some things from my locker. I shake my head too many times and he rapidly nods in agreement.

"No I'm not," I practically gasp.

"Neither am I," he admits. We stare at each other, as if finding solace in the intense insanity filling our eyes.

   Finally I break my gaze and whisper hastily, "I have to go to the bathroom."

   "Okay, we'll wait for you," he responds in a similar tone, watching me as I skittishly make my way toward the girls' restroom. Upon entering I expect the bully girls to be waiting. Thankfully, no one is here but me. I stare at my reflection. So many freckles on such a pale, thin countenance. Those deep sapphire blue eyes, too big for that round little face—now laced with insanity. I don't know what has happened to me. Ever since Adam got that phone call and ran off, I have not been the same. Something is off. I'm forgetful, I remember things in fragments. I'm unstable, unsteady, inattentive. I feel like I'm falling apart, like everyone can see I can't keep myself together. And I wish I knew why.

   Since I'm alone, I allow myself to cry. Cry and throw up. This has become a routine since the night Adam got that phone call and decided to run off.

Once I've regained composure, I wash my face free of tears and makeup that I don't remember putting on. Grabbing my things, sullenly plodding from the restroom, head hanging, I wander toward the next class and Adam meets me. I was kind of hoping it'd be Dylan waiting, but there's something in Adam's expression that makes me feel like I have some control.

   He doesn't say anything, just puts his left arm over me as we walk into the classroom. My brain is foggy but I realize I needed that from him.

   The minute we enter the room a thousand eyes are on me and I hear insults being whispered that fill me with sadness and rage.

   "Stoner."

   "Orphan."

   "Worthless."

"Demon."

   "Slut."

   My hands fly to my ears, palms pressed against them but it doesn't shut out the words. They're already in my head, breaking me apart.

   Make it stop.

   Adam notices that I've got my hands pressed over my ears. Something flashes in his eyes and he gently removes my hands, guiding me to the only unoccupied table in a corner by the window. He pulls his chair close so our knees touch, leans forward to look in my eyes.

"Thoughts too loud today?"

I shake my head.

"People gossiping?"