Just Like You Imagined

I’ve already missed almost ten minutes of my class. I can’t be here anymore right now. I’m leaving.
The anxiety was still there, but at least the hallways were empty now. Hopefully he was in class like he was supposed to be. Why would he think I would tell? As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t. Never. The thought of it made me feel nauseous.

I walked slowly to my locker to get my things, still deep in thought.

I can barely move my arm, it stings. Just the way I like it. Soon the guilt would come back again. I knew him all too well now. Knew exactly how this would end.

I got my bag and started walking home. The blade still clutched in my hand. I can’t let it go.
It was starting to get cold outside now and the leaves were falling off the trees.

I walked home slowly; I had no reason to be home. The opposite, I wasn’t supposed to be at home now. I’ll have to think of an excuse to tell my parents. I’ll also have to pray to whatever god there is up there, and beg him to keep my parents completely oblivious. If history repeats itself again, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t stand inflicting hurt on those that I love. But there’s no other way for me, and so the best thing for them is to not know about it.

I really wish I could go back to those times. Where no one knew. It was just me and the blade.

No guilt following me like a shadow after every time. It’s like a nutrition drink to my own self hatred. It’s like and evil circle. A downward spiral.

I don’t care anymore though, I have no future anyway.

I walk up to the front door and unlock it. I take my ragged Converse off and walk into the kitchen. The clock says 15 minutes to 10. My parents will be home from work in about seven hours, at five a clock for those of you too lazy to do the math.

I decided to call my mom and tell her that I was home, so that I wouldn’t have to explain myself when the principal decided to call and let my parents know that I wasn’t in school for the majority of the day. That would just raise questions I won’t be willing to answer.
I grabbed the phone, pushing the buttons. 949 323 6439.

“hello this is Jane”
“hi mom, It’s me”
“Oh, why are you calling me now? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
“Well yeah, but I wasn’t feeling too good so I went home, I just thought I’d let you know”
Not feeling too good, that’s the biggest understatement of the year
“Are you ok, honey? Do you want me to come home?”
“Yeah, I’m fine mom, I feel a little better now, not, I’m not a baby, you don’t have to come home. But you should get back to work now, don’t worry”
“Yeah, ok, I’ll see you later, just don’t make a habit of this Alice. Bye honey.
“Bye mom”
Great, she saw right through my little pathetic attempts at acting. But then again, she won’t care. She doesn’t understand me, and she makes no effort to. So hopefully she’ll just simply “forget” about our phone call.
She likes to pretend I’m a perfect, good girl who completely loves life. Which is about as far away from the truth as you can get.

I walk up the stairs in to my room. Rummaging through all my CD’s, there it is. Year Zero. I put it in my CD player. Track six on repeat. Me I’m not. I lie down on my bed and close my eyes.
I lose myself in the slow rhythmic beat, With Trent’s soothing voice loud throughout the house. I love being on my own. For a moment I forget about all that happened today. And for a moment I forget the beautiful stinging torturing my arm. For a minute I’m not here.
I’m free.

Hey, Can we stop? Me I’m not