From delusion lead me to Truth
From darkness lead me to Light
From death lead me to eternal life.
The beginning of school has started. 1,000 new freshman are all hoarded into the small auditorium for their initiation, each slightly excited, but mostly nervous. I walk past the auditorium and over to my friend Phoebe. For I am not a freshman. Sophomore, it's supposed to be the easiest year out of all four. I guess I'll be the decision maker on that one.
"Hello Helga" Phoebe greets me with her smile. It's the same smile, my favourite smile. It's honest, pure, friendly.
"Hey Pheebs"
It's the same thing we say everyday. However, the people who say them are not the same. We have all changed dramatically. Phoebe, has become a social butterfly, more outspoken. Her hair has changed from a bun to shoulder length hair, with streaks of red in it. She is a healthy height of 5' 4" and as beautiful as a butterfly, pale as milk. She still has a pure heart, with honest intentions.
Arnold and Gerald changed heights dramatically, Gerald became a lofty height of 6' 4", it's the funniest thing to see Phoebe and Gerald stand next to each other. They are dating, of course. They moved on from blushes and bashful "hi's". Arnold became a steady height of 6 feet. But his head remains the same.
Me? Why, I believe I have changed the most. When I was in the 8th grade, I traded in pink for black. I stayed a goth for about a year. When I think back on it all, I find it sort of premature. I think I was just trying to find my place in life, now I have resorted to black tops with tight jeans, and the occasional clip on chains. It's my style. And it's comfortable. My hair is usually in one long French braid, my hair is waist length, it flows and it makes me feel free, more beautiful. But for the touch of innocence I add a pink ribbon on the end to hold it all together. I suppose it's just me trying to be a kid again. Or remembering how happy we all were.
My obsession for Arnold quickly grew to a healthy…..admiration, you could say. But I'll always love him. I stopped bullying. Miriam still gets drunk and sleeps on counters. Bob still doesn't know my name. I am still unhappy. But I suppose, in a twisted way, that's how it's supposed to be. And I don't dare mess with fate.
BRING! I awake groggily and stare at the alarm clock 6:15. Just enough time to get myself ready, I have one of those early morning schedules where if I don't follow it completely, everything gets screwed up, and it's too early in the year for things to get screwed up. I should at least wait for 2nd term.
I stare up at the ceiling and glance at the clock 6:20. Time to move. I get up and discard my clothes on the floor on my way to the closet. I open up my underwear drawer and pull on some purple boy briefs, one year my mother had taken me shopping for thongs. They are at the bottom of the closet, who wants a string up their ass? A permanent wedgie? I don't think so. I clasp my bra. A 34 A. It's small, but I really don't mind it that way, because then I know that a guy isn't using me for my boobs. But, then again, guys will get with just about anything.
I shake my head and pull on some hip huggers, the real decision is the top. I couldn't care less about the jeans, but I love shirts, it's always been a big deal. I decide on a white wife beater and a black shirt that hangs off my shoulders over it. I braid my hair into a long French braid that reaches past the middle of my back and I head downstairs.
Miriam is asleep on the couch.
Me: "Miriam, wake up"
Miriam: Grumble, mumble.
I sigh, it's the same every morning. I take the blanket off the couch and cover her with it. My mother may not love me, but I still have a little bit of concern in me left for her, I bet I'm the only one who does.
I go into the kitchen and look into the cupboards. Nothing there, I have to remember to go grocery shopping. I find a granola bar in the drawer and I munch on it as I sit outside, it's September so it's still nice out in the morning. The crisp air, the lively smell. It's the time of day where everyone is same, tired.
I deposit the wrapper and head inside, I had never been one for eating. It wasn't that I was anorexic or something stupid like that, I just didn't like eating and never had much of an appetite anymore. I blame it on life. Always the easiest solution.
The bus wheezes to a stop and I climb on. Where to sit, where to sit. I choose a lonely seat in the middle. Nothing to draw attention to myself.
I watch the faces change on the sidewalk when someone sits next to me, I don't bother to look over, I might have to talk. But the stranger says hello.
Stranger: "Hey Helga."
Oh, it's no stranger, it's just Arnold. I glance over casually and smile slightly.
Me: "Hey Arnold."
For some reason, Arnold still talks to me and sees if I'm ok. I don't know why, I think he looks at me as a basket case, and that he has to keep me sane. Like it's his duty or something.
Arnold: "How are you?"
I sigh, I figure there's no way in getting out of this, he's always chipper in the morning. It's weird.
Me: I don't know, it's morning, I'm feeling a little….I don't know, like I wanna kill myself.
Arnold chuckles, it's nice. But then he grows serious.
Arnold: Wait, you're not seriously feeling like killing yourself are you?
I almost laugh, wow, remind me never to talk to Arnold about my depression problems.
Me: "Umm, no."
Arnold gets a slight blush to his cheeks and looks away. This is my time now, I get to ask a question.
Me: "How come you're always so awake in the morning?"
Arnold shrugs
Arnold: "I don't know, I've always been a morning person."
I smile, he's lucky. I tell him that
Why? He asks
Me: "The morning is beautiful, it's the start of a new day. We would all be lucky if we were able to see how beautiful it is. I guess that's why some people are so jaded."
He smiles, and tells me that maybe I'm right.
Maybe I am.
The conversation stops here. It's enough to keep me satisfied, and not enough for me to wonder if there's anything more. And there's not. We have a friendship, but it's more like if we get partnered up in science that it wouldn't be awkward. It's healthy, and it's comfortable.
I stopped believing that maybe Arnold would start to "like me, like me" as juvenile as it sounds. Because my whole life, Arnold has tried to be my friend. I wouldn't let him, but now he is, and I don't see any change when he talks to me, than before.
And it's better that way, if we got into a relationship, it would be more stress that I need. I might be happier, but, would that stop the world from crashing down on me? I don't know.
After the bus comes to a complete stop, I figure now would be the time to leave. It is only the second day of school and I am already feeling the annual exhaustion. Middle school was okay, I was happy, I had great friends and I was content. But then high school came along, and it was just too much. I always felt tired, and I couldn't find a way out. I still haven't, I suppose I should search for a muse. But I don't feel like I have the energy. I get off the bus and stare straight ahead. It's best not to make eye contact. That's how fights start.
And I really don't feel like kicking any asses today.
I walk into my house and call for someone, anyone. To let me know if I'm all alone in the house. Sometimes I prefer it alone, sometimes I prefer it with habitants. Mostly I prefer it alone, I get to do things I wouldn't normally be able to when people are around. But then again, they don't notice me that much anyway.
The house is currently empty and I let what I think is a smile, fall upon my lips. It's probably an evil smirk, but I'll take it for now. I throw my backpack on the table and open the fridge. Chinese food, some unidentified object smelling awfully rank, and alcohol of course. It's a wonder how I survive. I work of course, at a pet store downtown. It's perfect, I just work the cash register and don't have to know much. It's a pretty good pay, I guess. 12.50 an hour, 8 hours a week. I usually bring some work with me and get it all done there, that way I can throw my exhausted self on my bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.
By now I've grabbed my bag and headed into my room. I lock the door I put on personally and relax in the only place I feel safe. It's my haven, it represents me in a world that defies my existence. The room is large, spacious, the bed comfy, welcoming, and everything else just molds to me. Represents me. Respects me, in a way at least.
I don't have to work today, which is very good. I open up my bag and start my homework.
The fun is only starting.
By 6 I've finished my homework and Bob is home. God knows where Miriam is. I hear him yank open the fridge, the contents rattling, and the clank tells me he's reached for a beer. I don't want to walk down there, but my stomach tells me otherwise.
He drinks during the day too, so he comes home slightly intoxicated. He gets drunk 5 times out of the week. It's Thursday I'm guessing it's one of those days.
I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"HELGA!" I hear, it's funny. The only time he gets my name right. Is when he's drunk.
"What Bob?" I ask. I hear myself, I sound tired, worn down. I need to sleep.
"Get me another beer."
I roll my eyes, I don't want to waste my time on this.
"Get it yourself Bob, you big ogre."
"HEY HEY HEY!" He yells. He stands up from his chair and drunkenly walks over to me.
Now, I'm a normal person. Bob is big, massive, huge. I mean it when I say an ogre.
I back up to the wall and wince slightly as his face comes right up to mine.
"You are nothing, a worthless piece of shit."
He won't remember this tomorrow. I think he thinks he's doing an okay job of parenting.
"You won't amount to anything, you won't become anything, and you'll never be worth loving."
Ouch. His words hurt me and the back of my eyes begin to hurt. The surefire sign that I'm about to cry.
"Get away from me Bob!" I yell in anger. I push him back as hard as I can and he stumbles back a few steps.
"It's not true! None of it, what you say! You're just a drunk! You don't know me or what I am! You're not even a father. I don't even know you!"
His face is red in anger, and he steps forward, I back up to the wall once more and cover my face with my hands. He's never hit me before. He wouldn't start now would he?
He grabs both of my wrists and tear them away from my face. His grip is killer. It feels like my bones are about to crack and break. I let out a little cry and feel the tears run down my face.
"You will respect me!" He says. My knees give out and he stills holds my wrists over my head.
"I don't want any more of your shit! I take enough god-damnit!" He lets go and I completely fall to the ground. My face is in the carpet and I bawl my eyes out, hands at tiny fists by my cheeks. Bob returns to the couch and flips on the TV.
I cry harder.
He turns up the volume.
I return upstairs, worn out and hurting. I wipe away any remainders of tears and slip on my overlarge t-shirt. I start to fall asleep and wonder when it started taking a turn for the worse. And where Miriam was.
In the morning my face feels dry, and tight. I lift my hands up to feel my face when my wrists start hurting. I look at them and almost faint. They're terrible. Purple, blue, black, and green bruises in the shapes of large finger prints surrounding both of them. They ache, and hurt to move my wrists around.
I get out of bed and open my dresser drawer, much to the complaint of my wrists. And take two alleve. I find the longest sleeved shirt I own, get dressed in jeans, put on my shoes, take a 5 from my bank, and head out the door. Like it was any regular day.
I decide to walk to school today, I left earlier than the bus would come, and I need time to clear my head. Not think, that's not what I want to do today. Clear my head, gather my thoughts for the day. Get prepared. Be a little a peace before things go haywire.
In 15 minutes I reach the school. In all it's glory. I walk through the doors and immediately head for the cafeteria, the certain…..delay, yesterday left me without dinner. I'm quite hungry.
I reach the cafeteria and buy some cereal, I sit myself in a corner and stare out the window. It's still pretty warm, but now it's getting cooler. There is a tiny hint of orange to the trees. It's still my favourite time. When it's just perfectly cool. It always makes me smile in one way or another.
I eat my cereal in silence and stare deeply into the bowl. It's the first time he'd ever hurt me physically, and the verbal abuse. Only makes it worse. My deepest, deepest prayer right now is that it stops. I don't want to be removed from where I live. If I can just hide everything it'll all be fine.
By the time first bell has rung I'm already in my first block. Math. Normally math is something I have no problem with, but today, it's too much. I can hardly write my wrists are killing me, the pencil makes it worse, My words and numbers are coming down in scribbles. My throbbing wrists keep me from concentrating. Ugh, I still have 3 more blocks after this. An hour and 15 minutes each.
When I reach English class all I want to do is go home. No, not home. Anywhere but here.
I take my usual seat and find that Arnold sits next to me today. Yeah, this is just what I need.
It's my 3rd block class and the temperature today is sweltering. It's so hot. Bob picked the perfect time to hurt me.
"Hey Helga?"
I turn to Arnold and say "Yeah?"
"Did you just hear what Ms. Hawkins said?"
She said something
"Uh no, I didn't quite catch that."
He smiles a bit "She said to pick a partner and do a chapter analysis on chapter 5. Wanna work with me?"
"Uhh sure."
The one thing that bothers me about Arnold is that he has so much confidence. He never blushes, did you know that? Not anymore. If a playboy bunny came to the school and announced that she was in love with him in front of everybody. he'd laugh it off, kindly say he's not interested, and then form a deep friendship with her for 5 years. He just, he confuses me. Even though he's not confusing at all.
While Arnold writes down things about the chapter I fan myself with my hand, it's too hot for this.
At the end of the class I pack up my things and start to leave when Arnold grabs my wrist gently.
I gasp sharply at the contact and pull my wrist back and cradle it to my chest.
"Ow." I say.
"Oh gosh I'm so sorry Helga! What's wrong with your wrist? Do you want me to look at it?"
"No!" I say. "I just hurt it playing a sport. It should be fine."
"Oh okay."
But I don't hear it. I'm out of there before I can ask why he stopped me.
A/N: Alright chapter 1. Review folks, It would be appreciated.