Let Me Be The One To Call You Baby All The Time

"I'm Fine! Just everyone leave me the hell alone!" Angela yelled in anger as she stomped off to her room to gather her shower supplies.

Millions of things were milling around in Angela's head. Buzzing like angry bees confined to their hive, each one stinging her painfully as they surfaced.

“Why?” she asked herself. “Why would he lead me on like that? How could he tell me he loved me and than rip my heart out and throw it across the room into the trash?” all of these questions ran through Angela’s mind at lightning speed as she carefully stripped off her clothes.

First she took off her shirt, a red ribbed tank, and threw it onto the black tile floor. After that she took off her brown Bermuda shorts and tossed them into the same heap. She was left in her underwear. Now she would set up her shower. She unzipped her bag and began taking things out. Shampoo, conditioner, face scrub, body wash, a tooth brush, tooth paste and a mesh sponge were all carefully set on the edge of her bathtub. Next she got her towels, a large blue one for her body and a smaller crème one for her hair. Finally she took of her reaming items of clothing. Her black lace bra was set on the counter, next to her bag, to save for the next day, and her matching boy shorts were put in the mound of clothes waiting to be put in the hamper.

Angela then turned on the shower and stepped into the steamy mist. “Aaahhh” she sighed wetting her long dark hair. Showers were something she enjoyed; they gave her a chance to pamper herself.

The hot water ran down her bare body, each small droplet caressing her in warmth, wrapping her in a thin liquid barrier, separating her from the outside world, protecting her from everything harmful, heartbreak, bad luck, and sometimes herself.

But only in her mind was this film of water, covering her body, invincible, for as soon as she got out of the shower, everything would be real again, and the pain would be back.
As Angela dried herself off she thought about what had happened less than an hour before. How she had called Ethan and asked him to choose, her or his girlfriend, how he had picked Zoey, and then how she called her a slut, and how he said he wouldn’t talk to her again. Now what was she to do? She kicked herself for letting that comment slip. She should have controlled herself, but she just had to get the last word in. And she was in trouble for it, and she was gonna pay, big time.

“Me and my big mouth, when will I ever learn to shut up?!” she scolded herself a she pulled on her PJ’s (which consisted of a big T-shirt and pajama pants). “How am I gonna get myself out of this?” she asked to no one.

After Angela dressed she grabbed a book from her book shelf and turned on some music. She needed to keep her mind off of her current situation, so that she wouldn’t panic. If she panicked she could revert back to her old ways.

She opened her copy of “Flying against the wind” and began reading. Just then she got a Text Message. It was from Ethan.

She opened her phone and looked at the message, she gasped. “No,” she said. “No this is not happening! No way can this happen,” she started to breathe hard. “oh my god….” Now she was having a panic attack.

She reached into her pajama drawer and felt for what she needed. Something pricked her finger. "yes" she said to herself, as she took out her protractor. “They thought they could stop me from ever doing this again, well they were wrong” she said sliding the cold metal across her arm, a line of crimson red forming behind it. She stared at the blood bubbling up onto her skin. She repeated the process several times before she blotted the blood, turned out her light, and went to bed.