She sat in a classroom full of the shallowest human beings there ever were. She despised each and every one of them. They didn't know anything about life or tragedy, they were not prepared to handle their own life's, but for some odd reason they will be sent out into the world, expected to fend for themselves or come crawling back home to their rich parents. She didn't belong here, not in LA, not in this school, not on this planet. She was alone, she always has been. She forced back the memories that brought on the pain and reminded her she was just lying to herself. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing until she was gone, out of the room into the land of her mind, awaiting one of the thousands of bombs to explode and turn her fantasies into her worst nightmares.
She awoke to the startling sound of a ruler hitting the hard wooden desk three times her size. She drowsily looked up through her thick cut bangs and hood jacket to see Instructor Fat-Ass standing before her.
"What the hell do you want?" She sluggishly drew out. She knew she was pushing it, but she didn't care.
"How was your nap?" Instructor Fat-Ass asks, his voice dripping with sweetness the way it only can when he is on the verge of losing it. She knew he didn't want an answer, but she couldn't let this moment pass, it was too sweet of bait to resist.
"Oh it was wonderful, you were in my dreams." She says, the same amount of pseudo-sweetness layering her voice.
"Oh really? And what was I doing in there?" He was on the edge, just one more push and he'd crack.
"Teaching from where you belong of course. In Hell." She says her voice sugary then turning cold as a rock, that one final push until he breaks. He doesn't even get the joy of yelling at her, she gets up and saunters out of the room towards the office, knowing that she was in for a long wait.
"What's the worst they could do to me? Call my mom?" She thought, a harsh laugh echoed through the hallway.
She walked straight to her car, not even bothering to hide it from anyone that she was leaving. She looked around at the array of Mustangs, Corvettes, and Camaros then she saw her old 60's Bug. She briskly walked to, slide into the driver side, and then peeled out. She sped down the main streets, weaving in and out of traffic until she ended up at the old abandoned house. She walked in, letting her memories lead her through the rooms, each one unfolding a new horror.
Finally, it was all too much. She walked to the middle of their room and collapsed, unable to bear the weight of the memories anymore. She floated through dreams, nightmares and reality; she wasn't able to decide which one was worst.
She didn't know when but she finally crawled into the comforting state of unconsciousness, but even that is only safe for so long. She woke up screaming, tears running down her face, gripping her chest trying to figure out if she'd been shot. The pain was so real, so overwhelming, she thought it would dull over time, but it never did. She shouldn't have come here, she tore the scab off her brain and now it is bleeding worse than ever, the blood refusing to clot.
She lay there, in a mixture of tears, sweat, and blood. She thought there was blood, there had to be blood, it was the only way to explain how much she was aching. It couldn't be from the memories; those only played havoc on her mind. What she felt now was real pain; racking the outer shell she called her body.
She relived all of her memories; they carved their way through what was left of her lifeless form. Each new memory took another little piece of her with it as it disappeared back into the vault that was unbreakable but so easily opened. She knew no one would come looking for her, she ditched school just after second period started; it would still be five hours until she was supposed to be expected home. They would come looking about three hours after that. She had to pull herself together, but pieces seemed to scattered miles apart in this little room. She didn't want to get up, she had no one to go to , nowhere to go. She was alone still, she always will be.
She laid there for an indeterminable amount of time before she got her pieces somewhat put together, still missing huge chunks. She slowly drags herself out to her car, feeling every muscle in her body aching and clueless to how long she was trapped in that dimension of nothingness. When she looks at the clock she realizes she was out of it for four hours, anything could have happened to her, someone could have came in and killed her, and she would have been helpless. This thought chills her, she forced back the single memory that threatens to escape. She drives slowly, trying to figure out where would be the best place to get a connection. She promised she'd stay clean, but this was a desperate moment. She needed it.
She looked down at her arms, veins blown from years of abuse. This shit would be hard to find short notice. No one is gonna be willing to hand her some without finding out how desperate she really was. She knew what it would resort to, but after what she just lived through she would do everything she had to one hundred times over just to get some.
She knew exactly where she had to go to get her connection, but she dreaded showing her face there after what happened last time. She hoped they'd just hook her up and let her bail, but she had a feeling it was going to be a long, painful, slow night.