"This makes absolutely no sense at all." I heard a girl to my left say.
She was talking to her friend about the math work we were given. One of the smart boys in our class went up to her to try to help her. The girl was very pretty, and he was doing what he could to be just part of her world – even just the smallest part. She acted friendly with him; but under any other circumstances, she wouldn't even give him the time of day.
I had never been comfortable around boys. This was my second year in high school now. While most of the girls I went to junior high with started going out more with boys, I became shyer around them. In the hallways, when I would walk in-between classes, I would always cast my eyes down. It wasn't only boys; I had withdrawn from everything – school, my old friends…life.
I asked the teacher if I could be excused to the girl's room.
As I reached its entrance, I took out a handkerchief to place over the handle of the door. The bathroom was a bit crowded. I ignored the group of girls taking and headed straight towards one of the sinks. I turned on the hot water fully and placed my hands under it. The water scorched my skin, but I endured it. I had to get clean.
After the minutes passed, I noticed that the other girls had already left, and that I was all alone. All that could be heard throughout the empty room was the sound of flowing water hitting against the marble sink.
Then another sound joined it.
The door opened. It was an underclassman. I knew who she was by her hair. It always stood out. I also knew her because of our past together. It was my half-sister, Ayane. She saw me too, but she didn't acknowledge it, and just walked past me towards another sink. We usually didn't talk to each other anymore. I knew she hated me. For a long time, I thought I hated her too, but it wasn't that.
Ayane was the daughter of my mother and another man. My father never really talked about it. And when the subject was brought up, it was always changed. In fact, I didn't even really know she was only my half-sister until a few days before mother passed away. It was she who told me the truth about Ayane. She held my hands to comfort me and help try to make me understand. But I didn't want it. I felt betrayed. I hated her. I thought I hated Ayane too.
A few days after mom died, my father didn't want to take care of Ayane anymore and sent her to live with a family friend close-by. When I think back on it, father always treated her coldly. I began to take out my resentment on her too. I've always regretted that – the pain I'd deliberately tried to cause her.
I suddenly heard her footsteps walk past me again. I looked at her reflection in the mirror as she walked past me. I cast my eyes back down and returned to diligently washing and scrubbing my hands.
She was talking to her friend about the math work we were given. One of the smart boys in our class went up to her to try to help her. The girl was very pretty, and he was doing what he could to be just part of her world – even just the smallest part. She acted friendly with him; but under any other circumstances, she wouldn't even give him the time of day.
I had never been comfortable around boys. This was my second year in high school now. While most of the girls I went to junior high with started going out more with boys, I became shyer around them. In the hallways, when I would walk in-between classes, I would always cast my eyes down. It wasn't only boys; I had withdrawn from everything – school, my old friends…life.
I asked the teacher if I could be excused to the girl's room.
As I reached its entrance, I took out a handkerchief to place over the handle of the door. The bathroom was a bit crowded. I ignored the group of girls taking and headed straight towards one of the sinks. I turned on the hot water fully and placed my hands under it. The water scorched my skin, but I endured it. I had to get clean.
After the minutes passed, I noticed that the other girls had already left, and that I was all alone. All that could be heard throughout the empty room was the sound of flowing water hitting against the marble sink.
Then another sound joined it.
The door opened. It was an underclassman. I knew who she was by her hair. It always stood out. I also knew her because of our past together. It was my half-sister, Ayane. She saw me too, but she didn't acknowledge it, and just walked past me towards another sink. We usually didn't talk to each other anymore. I knew she hated me. For a long time, I thought I hated her too, but it wasn't that.
Ayane was the daughter of my mother and another man. My father never really talked about it. And when the subject was brought up, it was always changed. In fact, I didn't even really know she was only my half-sister until a few days before mother passed away. It was she who told me the truth about Ayane. She held my hands to comfort me and help try to make me understand. But I didn't want it. I felt betrayed. I hated her. I thought I hated Ayane too.
A few days after mom died, my father didn't want to take care of Ayane anymore and sent her to live with a family friend close-by. When I think back on it, father always treated her coldly. I began to take out my resentment on her too. I've always regretted that – the pain I'd deliberately tried to cause her.
I suddenly heard her footsteps walk past me again. I looked at her reflection in the mirror as she walked past me. I cast my eyes back down and returned to diligently washing and scrubbing my hands.