Extraordinary.

‘Dear Diary.’

It’s not how I normally started my journal entries, but I gave it a try anyway. It couldn’t hurt, I decided. My journal was more of a book of tips I’d created for myself and a list of names, how else was I supposed to remember everybody I’d tried so far. Some days I’d even include something that happened that day, but that proved useless considering the next day would probably be the same anyway.

Thick lines riddled the pages, creating an odd mind bending picture. To the side I’d created a box out of my painstakingly close and even lines, to the other side there were straight marks all the way down the page. In the center laid a long list of names.

It was a list of the people who honestly didn’t matter.

The clock to my side reminded me that there was still five minutes until the next day. Slowly, I scrawled todays name into the small, thin notebook. Jenna Siells. I wrote it in cursive while crossing the fingers on my left hand.

The seconds seem to tick by slower when you’re watching them move their way across the clock. They were self-conscious and I would be too if I were them. I was always watching the time; the minutes, the seconds, the day.

I closed the book, pulling my eyes away from the clock for only a moment to look at the ratted notebook. I had drawn the roman numeral three in the center so it covered most of the fading blue color and then in the bottom right corner scribbled what I so wittingly titled my journal: ‘Diary of the Damned.’ I stared for a while, just looking at crumpled book before me, before taking another look at the clock.

11:58.

I groaned and leaned back in my chair, sleep tugging gracefully at my eyes. My eyelids became heavier and my blinking more sluggish as I tilted the chair back just a little bit. The clock read eleven fifty-nine, now, and a yawn ripped its way through my lips. Maybe I could close my eyes for a second, I decided.

I was falling and I didn’t know why, but the second I made impact with the floor a buzzer started sounding. An alarm clock was going off and it sounded far too familiar. I opened my eyes only to realize that I really hadn’t wanted to.

I felt like crying as I realized it was the same room as it had been the morning before and the morning before that and the two hundred or so mornings before that. I was cursed, that’s all there was to it. My lips trembled as I tried to think up an explanation that made any sense and came short.

“Why?” I whispered to myself, the word sounding waterlogged in the empty room. That’s all it would ever be, an empty room. I crawled out of the bed and went to the closet, passing the mirror in a rush. I didn’t want to look at myself, I couldn’t bare to know that it could only be my fault that I was stuck in this never ending loop hole; this thing that made my life a living hell.

Inhale. I pulled a new shirt over my head. Exhale. I pulled two sneakers onto my feet. Inhale. I wiped my eyes and put on a little make-up. Exhale. I left the room with a bag slung over my shoulder.

“Anabelle,” a teacher called over my shoulder. I already knew what I did wrong but I turned around to face her anyway. “Why didn’t you hand in your work?”

I sighed, wishing I could just walk away. “It’s my first day, could you cut me a little slack?” I muttered instead, causing the dark skinned english teacher to glare down at me.

“You think you’d have a little more respect, considering,” she said, shaking her head and turning on her heel. I stared after her, confused as to what she could mean.

“Considering what?” I murmured to myself before hurrying to my next class.

The teacher was standing at the front of the room as always, but there was a tall boy standing alongside her. When I say tall, I mean tall as in probably over six feet. His clothes seemed to exaggerate the statement, falling short of his body by just the tiniest bit. Everything about the boy was exaggerated, though, I realized as my eyes drug themselves up to his face. His hair was two inches too long, his eyes shining with so many colors I couldn’t pick one. It was like someone thought it would be a good idea to shove an entire rainbow into somebodies face, distributing the softest pinkish red to his thin lips. It’s a person that you’d be crazy not to remember. “Class, meet Parker, he’s new,” she hadn’t really needed to explain.

Her deep blue eyes scanned the room, spying me in the doorway. She thought it appropriate to introduce me too, “and this is Annabelle.” She was pointing to me, sending all of the eyes to me including Parker’s.

We stood like that with locked eyes for longer than necessary, shivers erupting down my spine. Inhale, I reminded myself again. There weren’t supposed to be new people, that makes my job harder and unpredictable. My job is always easy, but slow, and it’s always the same. Nothing ever changes.

It’s like the only law that stands around me; nothing is ever different.

Goosebumps took over my skin. Exhale. I grabbed my arm and used my thumb nail to leave a thin, straight indent in my wrist. Inhale. I took a step forward breaking the eye contact. Exhale. My arms hung limp at my sides and the rest of the class seemed to hold a collective breath. Two people stopped watching us and turned to the teacher as the final bell rang and then two more pulled their eyes away.

“So,” the teacher recognized the awkward moment she had accidentally created and tried to pull the attention away completely. “Today we’ll be working with phase charts,” she said excitedly while everybody else groaned and I found a seat at a table in the back. Thomas slowly lowered himself into the chair next to me, avoiding my eyes at all costs.

I tried to pay attention to the lesson, but my eyes wandered more than once to the boy sitting next to me. Everything was wrong, this should never happen. “So, you’re new?” he whispered, leaning a tiny bit towards me to make sure I could hear. I nodded, lips glued shut. I was almost afraid of what was happening.

I had become so used to the same old things, change was terrifying.

“I’m new, too,” he murmured. I let out an airy laugh that only the two of us could hear that sounded a little like a scoff. That much was obvious. I nodded, however, and made sure I was facing the board. “So, Annabelle,” he said my name in an almost patronizing way, it was as if he knew. “ Why’d you move?”

I turned to face him sharply, eyes narrowed to a point and aimed at his brilliantly colorful ones. “Excuse me?” I asked, choking on the syllables. He knew. He knew. He had to know.

Inhale. He continued to stare at me, as if he could see through the walls I’d so painstakingly thrown up. Exhale. I could feel my nostrils flair, something that hardly happened, and my narrowed eyes widen to a normal size. My right hand started to trace lines into the desk, my skin not pressing hard enough to squeak against the fake wood but close enough to make Parker’s eyes gravitate towards my desk.

Inhale. “Are you okay?” Exhale. “You know, you don’t have to answer.” Inhale. “It was a stupid question anyway.” Exhale. “Are you okay?” Slowly, his voice rose from a whisper. Slowly, my head started to fly into that dazed spin I knew perfectly well. I was moving, soon I’d have a new school and a new plot of people to pick through. I grinned lazily.

“Because I didn’t have a choice,” I murmured, not sure if he heard but knowing he wouldn’t understand.

When I woke up in a new room and a new bed I found myself frantically clawing my way through my bag. The ‘Damned Diary’ was gone, replaced with a new book. It was untitled, I listed it as the next in the series, pushing open to the front page.

In oversized letters and a messy scrawl I wrote the words, “do they remember?”