Status: Completely written- now, to post it all
The Last Place
17
Then the world came crashing down.
Well, no, it wasn’t quite that bad. I’d been through much, much worse, but it was a hard hit.
I was walking down the hall on my way to French with my head in the clouds and my mind on daydreams, but that didn’t make me completely oblivious to what was going on around me.
And what was going on was Shea, pressing some girl against the wall, kissing her in a way I thought only happened in movies. I was floored, just before I felt something inside of me twist painfully. It was foolish, I knew, to be hurt because of this. One kiss didn’t make him obligated to me.
Telling myself that over and over, I turned and ran all the way to the track, where I dropped my bag and started sprinting. For some reason, though, running didn’t help at all. I didn’t stop until my legs gave out and I collapsed, shaking and heaving, on the ground.
Appropriately, it started pouring rain. I didn’t move, didn’t have the energy to move. I’d pushed myself too far.
With the way the rain was pounding the ground all around me, it was no wonder I didn’t hear Shea approach until he knelt down next to me and said softly, “Aislin, what’s wrong?”
He was the last person I wanted to see. In that moment, I would have been happy to never see him again. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I leapt to my feet, ignoring the ache in my legs, and ran as fast as I could away from him, grabbing my bag on the way.
The screaming protest of my lungs was nothing compared to the feeling seeing him gave me.
I holed up in my room for the rest of the evening. I’d been a fool, I knew, for ever trusting him. I should have known that it was asking too much, to be close to people. To want any more than the most casual of friendships. Hadn’t I learned anything from Fallon? It’s just asking to be hurt, when you try for more.
I refused to leave my bed, and when Carmen tried to yank me off, I clung to a bedpost until she gave up. Still, she wouldn’t leave the room until I begged and said that I really needed to be alone.
Carmen brought me back food, which I forced down because I was trying to deflect questions, and my lack of appetite would have brought about even more.
I knew it was pathetic, but I really didn’t want to see Shea again. I simply wasn’t ready to face him yet. The next day, I faked sick. I skipped breakfast and lunch. Carmen brought me dinner.
I slept during the day, and found that my nightmares, which had been infrequent, were back full-force. Every time I woke up, it was with sweat caked on my face and a scream in my throat. These, though, were different from the ones I’d been dealing with. They were indistinct. I couldn’t remember what was so scary upon waking.
The next morning, Carmen examined me carefully. “You don’t look sick.”
“I’m not.” I was a lousy liar, so I didn’t bother with it.
“Then what’s going on?”
“I just… needed a break.”
“Is that what I’m supposed to tell Shea?” Carmen asked with a smirk.
I sat bolt upright. “No,” I snapped. She raised a brow, so I took a deep breath and added, “Why would you tell him anything?”
“He keeps asking about you. He’s really worried.”
“That bastard.” It would have been amusing, the way Carmen went slack-jawed, if I was in the mood for laughing. “He has absolutely no right…”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. What did that poor boy do to you?” Unwillingly, I told her about what I’d seen. Carmen sat on my bed and tutted sympathetically.
“There must be some mistake,” she said.
“Like what? Are you going to say I imagined the whole thing?”
“Well, no,” she began slowly. I waited, picking at lint on my blanket so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. “But what are you thinking, hiding out here? Get out there and show him that you don’t care. Otherwise, he wins.”
I considered, and realized that she was right. “Go on to breakfast without me. I’ve got to shower. And… thanks.”
Carmen grinned and called, “Atta girl!” over her shoulder as she hurried out of our room.
Well, no, it wasn’t quite that bad. I’d been through much, much worse, but it was a hard hit.
I was walking down the hall on my way to French with my head in the clouds and my mind on daydreams, but that didn’t make me completely oblivious to what was going on around me.
And what was going on was Shea, pressing some girl against the wall, kissing her in a way I thought only happened in movies. I was floored, just before I felt something inside of me twist painfully. It was foolish, I knew, to be hurt because of this. One kiss didn’t make him obligated to me.
Telling myself that over and over, I turned and ran all the way to the track, where I dropped my bag and started sprinting. For some reason, though, running didn’t help at all. I didn’t stop until my legs gave out and I collapsed, shaking and heaving, on the ground.
Appropriately, it started pouring rain. I didn’t move, didn’t have the energy to move. I’d pushed myself too far.
With the way the rain was pounding the ground all around me, it was no wonder I didn’t hear Shea approach until he knelt down next to me and said softly, “Aislin, what’s wrong?”
He was the last person I wanted to see. In that moment, I would have been happy to never see him again. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I leapt to my feet, ignoring the ache in my legs, and ran as fast as I could away from him, grabbing my bag on the way.
The screaming protest of my lungs was nothing compared to the feeling seeing him gave me.
I holed up in my room for the rest of the evening. I’d been a fool, I knew, for ever trusting him. I should have known that it was asking too much, to be close to people. To want any more than the most casual of friendships. Hadn’t I learned anything from Fallon? It’s just asking to be hurt, when you try for more.
I refused to leave my bed, and when Carmen tried to yank me off, I clung to a bedpost until she gave up. Still, she wouldn’t leave the room until I begged and said that I really needed to be alone.
Carmen brought me back food, which I forced down because I was trying to deflect questions, and my lack of appetite would have brought about even more.
I knew it was pathetic, but I really didn’t want to see Shea again. I simply wasn’t ready to face him yet. The next day, I faked sick. I skipped breakfast and lunch. Carmen brought me dinner.
I slept during the day, and found that my nightmares, which had been infrequent, were back full-force. Every time I woke up, it was with sweat caked on my face and a scream in my throat. These, though, were different from the ones I’d been dealing with. They were indistinct. I couldn’t remember what was so scary upon waking.
The next morning, Carmen examined me carefully. “You don’t look sick.”
“I’m not.” I was a lousy liar, so I didn’t bother with it.
“Then what’s going on?”
“I just… needed a break.”
“Is that what I’m supposed to tell Shea?” Carmen asked with a smirk.
I sat bolt upright. “No,” I snapped. She raised a brow, so I took a deep breath and added, “Why would you tell him anything?”
“He keeps asking about you. He’s really worried.”
“That bastard.” It would have been amusing, the way Carmen went slack-jawed, if I was in the mood for laughing. “He has absolutely no right…”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. What did that poor boy do to you?” Unwillingly, I told her about what I’d seen. Carmen sat on my bed and tutted sympathetically.
“There must be some mistake,” she said.
“Like what? Are you going to say I imagined the whole thing?”
“Well, no,” she began slowly. I waited, picking at lint on my blanket so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. “But what are you thinking, hiding out here? Get out there and show him that you don’t care. Otherwise, he wins.”
I considered, and realized that she was right. “Go on to breakfast without me. I’ve got to shower. And… thanks.”
Carmen grinned and called, “Atta girl!” over her shoulder as she hurried out of our room.