So, I'm not sure how well this story is going to go, nor where I can even take it. For now I'm just scrambling my ideas down to see how you react. If you like the concept so far please feel free to leave a review and tell me you want to see this happen.
I lay against the cold, hard mattress that rests on this wooden frame, a poor excuse of a bed. My eyes are blankly fixed onto the ceiling, my pupils tracing along the rugged pattern etched into the white sheet above. The sun is slowly creeping overhead the horizon, I can feel the warmth from it's rays seeping onto my carpet and raising the temperature of this chamber I am forced to call home. Suddenly, the high-pitched, repetitive beeping begins to flash into my ears from the other side of my room. It's my alarm clock, telling me to get out of bed. I didn't sleep for a single minute all night.
Day number one… Let's see how this goes.
Reluctantly, I roll myself out of bed. My sheets are still neatly tucked into the corners against the wall, for I didn't even bother to cover myself in a blanket. I just collapsed, still wearing my day clothes, and stared at the staleness of my bare ceiling all night. I didn't even take my shoes off. For a minute, I contemplate lying back down in bed for a little longer. Since I'm already wearing my outfit for the day, I've saved myself an hour or so I'd usually spend getting ready… I could use this hour huddling against the stiffness of my comforter, glaring at my ceiling some more. Silly me, I'd almost forgotten. You can't go to school with stained clothing.
I swing open the rough, wooden doors of my dresser, staring aimlessly at the vast selection of brightly colored clothing. Pink, pink, pink, all I see is pink. It hurts my eyes. I don't want to wear pink today, but it's the only thing I own. I yank my desired blouse off of the flimsy, plastic hanger, throwing it onto the bed. Making sure my blinds are closed, I tear off the tainted clothing from the night before and kick it under my bed. I don't even want to bother washing it; it's not something I'm ever going to wear again.
As I walk over to my mattress to grab my clothing for the day, something soft and cloth like is wrapping around my feet. I look down to see my underwear tugged against my ankles. I stare at it. I can't get myself to look away, no matter how badly I want to. My pupils dilate, my heart thumps rapidly inside my chest. This little piece of fabric is making me want to jump out of that window right next to me, but I can't get myself to move, as if I've become frozen with fear. So I just stand there, naked, staring at my underwear. This would be a horrible time for Jim to barge into my door. Just as that thought crosses my fragile mind, I hear a knock against my door. I scream, thinking that, for a minute, it was Jim.
"Aelita?"
No, just Jeremie. Thank God. Wait, no, this is bad… this is very, very bad. I look like a zombie, having not slept all night. Walking over to the mirror I take extra time to point out my imperfections. My face is pale today with soft rings of purple surrounding my troubled eyes. I try and smile in the mirror, but it's no use. You can tell my smile is faker than a Barbie doll. Perhaps even more fake.
"Aelita, are you awake yet?"
I can't let him see me like this. What should I do? Should I pretend to be asleep and just not answer? No, if I do that, he'll keep harassing me so that I get up for class. I clear my throat.
"Yes, I'm here," I say, awfully hoarsely.
"Can I come in?"
No, no you can't. But if I tell him no, then I'll have to explain myself, and I can't do that. I promised I'd never tell. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know what to say. I don't even know what happened, really. I just know that I'm still sore.
"Just a second…" I run over to my bed and throw on my clothes. My hair is a mess; frizzy and tangled in all sorts of maniacal directions. I try to force my brush through it, but it's no use. All it does is yank at my tender head, and I don't want to bring myself anymore pain. I open my door, greeted by the bright face of my handsome Einstein. His cheerful demeanor quickly diminishes upon looking at me, though. I guess I look worse than I thought.
"Aelita… are you okay?"
"Yes, fine," I clear my throat again and quickly fake a smile. He pauses for a moment, his eyes probing at me with a look of denial.
"Are you sure?"
"Uh huh, I just didn't sleep well."
"You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"Thanks."
"I'm sorry Aelita, I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, you don't need to apologize. I'm going to class now."
"But I saved you my croissant from breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
I hastily walk away from him. I didn't look back, but I can feel him staring at me, concerned with my well-being. I'm fine though, really I am. Or at least, I think I am. This isn't at all fair. I don't even know enough about my own human anatomy to fully understand what happened. Is it supposed to hurt this much to walk? Maybe I'm just overreacting. This is probably normal.
Or maybe it's not normal at all, and I need to tell someone before it's too late. No, I can't tell. I promised I wouldn't. I don't break promises. That's something I learned about humans that was bad.
