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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic


She rolled out of bed, checked her phone. No messages. She turned it off again. Smiled. It was a sad smile though and if you looked closely, you could see her eyes watering. She took a deep breath, sat at her desk, took her mirror, her make up and started getting ready for the day. 

It was 6:03 in the morning. Still dark outside. Despite the cold, she opened the window. Not a sound. She was amazed at how peaceful everything was before people started waking up.

She took his shirt off, let it fall on the floor. 

Skinny jeans. Skinny top. She looked down at herself, not feeling skinny at all. Worthless. 6:07. She checked her phone again. Nothing. 

I miss the taste of a sweeter life, I miss the conversation… She looked into the mirror. Smiled. Not good enough. She smiled again. Better. When I was at my worst down on my knees and you said you had my back so I wonder where were you? Third try. There. She looked happy now. 6:17. Still nothing. Her lip quivered but her masks were firmly in place. Nothing slipped. Never did. 

Her feet took her to the kitchen. Mechanically she made herself breakfast. She had to eat. Made her mother happy. Probably the only time she listened to her. She sat on the counter. Slice of bread in one hand, phone in the other. Scrolling down Instagram. Automatically liking her friends’ pictures. Facebook now. He was online. Why didn’t he answer then? Worthless. Time to go. She wasn’t ready. Back straight. Head up. Smile on your face. 

Long strides. Bus stop. They were already there. She needed more time. But no turning back now. She hugged them. Asked how they were doing. But nobody asked her. Worthless. What? Laugh. Crack a joke. Seem interested. Smile. Laugh again. 7:13. She already knew, but she did it anyway. No message. 

The bus stopped. The cold air did her good. She had felt confined in that bus. Breathe. Slowly. She walked behind them. Listened absentmindedly to the crap they were talking about. Futile things. Who cared about that.

Lonely. She felt lonely. Out of habit she scratched her left wrist. The skin was now red. She felt her pulse. Beating steadily.

First class. She took notes. But didn’t listen. What for?

Second class. School was ridiculous she thought. 

Third class. Test. She knew she would fail. 

Fourth class. Philosophy. Now she listened. Took notes. Was genuinely interested. She was the only one. Why don’t we ask ourselves more questions? she wrote in a corner of her notebook. 


14:21. Three hours left until she would see him. She didn’t want to go. Not because she didn’t want to see him. But because it would hurt. She remembered the first time they started talking. How he promised that he would be her shoulder to cry on, her best friend. How he described the time they would spend together. She was too naive. Worthless.


19:42. She still felt lonely. Despite… Her hand started shaking. No. Not now. Not here. Deep breath. Calm down. He was laying next to her. Eyes on the screen. Laughing now and then. Not noticing anything. She stood up. Picked up her sweater. Uncomfortable. She needed to hide. It wasn’t enough. 

22:23. Time was passing too slowly. Jealous. She was jealous. Pretty, skinny, clever girls. Worthless. 

23:23. Make a wish.

She wanted to sleep. She tried talking to him. She had hoped he would listen, like he had promised. He had laughed and shrugged it off. Said it was stupid. She had smiled. But she was hurt. Instead she took out her book. The book he had promised her he would read. He looked at her. Rolled his eyes. Turned back to the stupid screen. She felt like crying. Stupid. She should have seen this coming. It had been too good to be true. 

02:47. He put his arms around her. She pretended to be asleep. He moved to kiss her forehead. Buried his head in her neck. She felt warm. He had kept one promise then. He ran his hand up and down the side of her body. The callousness of his hand made her shiver. So he pulled the covers tighter around her. And in that moment she felt alright. 

07:33. He was still sleeping. His back to her. She stared at it. Asked herself why. She already knew the answer. The loneliness would have killed her. But wasn’t she more lonely now? She took her phone. Scrolled up her messages. Read their conversations again. The rambles she had sent him. The rambles he had said he enjoyed reading. The rambles that actually had annoyed him. The promises he had made. Maybe promises were made to make you feel good until the moment they were broken. Worthless.

She craved the soft touch of a desperate soul like hers. 

Her left wrist was burning. She hadn’t noticed. She scoffed. 

09:56. He stirred in his sleep. Moved to face her. She turned her back to him.


10:42. He walked her to the door. Kissed her long and hard. But as soon as he heard a noise behind him, he moved to closed the door. She had already left. Not so long ago she felt safe. Pretty. Worth it. Now everything was crumbling down. She was crumbling down. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten attached. At least she didn’t fall. She was already on her knees. Never mind. Dust off. Chin up. Smile on.

Submitted: December 06, 2014

© Copyright 2021 goccanera. All rights reserved.

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