six+one= SEVENTH part of story

zoe rose's picture

Then suddenly i come to my senses and my mind clears...a bit.
"Amelia! Wait. What- what about..the guy..he-you-"
She sighs and leans back on the couch and looks around the room. "Ugh. Are you kidding? Oh, no way."
My hearts stops for a moment- I forgot we were talking about the Boyfriend.
"What do you mean?" I ask tentatively, once its begun the pattern again.
"Do I have to spell it out to you? I was never really...with him...i guess." She looks back at me. "I'm sorry, but, uh...did we really just..kiss?"
Oh god. She regrets it. Dammit.
"Um...yeah. We..uh, we did."
"Huh." She smiles at me. But its a tight-lipped, nervous smile.
We both look away. People stumble around in front of us, smile, giggle, a guy passes out on the coffee table. Just like that. I stare at my hands.
I feel like I'm about to cry.
And then, oh god, I am crying.
"Uh..." my voice is choking up and I'm avoiding her eyes. "I, uh, I guess, I'll go?" I glance at her. She's not even there.

The walk home is cold and unforgiving. I dont know how I let myself go that easily, but my stomach is twisting into painful knots of hunger and regret. I'm sobbing and my eyes are blurring, but this time its in a natural way.
And then my legs just give way and I kind of fall to the pavement, a pitiful lump on the sidewalk.
And I cry. To think that my first kiss with a girl...Oh god.
A car honks and I look up- it's Chloe's older brother, Pete, waving at me.
"Hey." He calls over to me. "Day!"
I smile and wipe away my tears- I'm sure I look terrible, but its not like it matters. The only person I've ever really wanted to impress probably hates me now. Scratch that. She does hate me, she must.
"Hey. You okay?" He helps me up. "You need a ride home?"
"Uh.." my voices chokes up again. I nod. "Y-yeah. That'd be great- it'd be wonderful."

I finally get home around 1. I take a quick shower and stare at myself in the mirror.
The reflection disgusts me.
I crouch down and open up the cabinet and take the box my dad bought in hopes of reflecting his dislike for the extravagance of my hair color. I finally find it in me to consider it again. It's been a few years.

Around 3 I am finished. My hair is brown, normal, and brown, and short. Well, shorter. I dug up my old glasses and threw away my contacts and I was back at the mirror.
Staring at myself.
At something I was trying desperately to cover up.
And all that I could see was a lonely little girl who still believed in unicorns and tooth fairies. Who thought stuffed animals could talk and imaginary friends were real.
I'm not even 15 yet and I'm dealing with things past my grasp...I shouldn't be, no one should.

Backing up against the wall I slid to the floor. I pulled my knees under my chin and held them as tightly as I could, as close as I could.
All I wanted to be was that little girl. Ignorant, cute, lovable...
All I wanted was...
And I cry. Even more than before. All my nightmares are remembered.
So I cry.

ill write the eighth when i get back from camp...sorry this was so depressing.