I have died everyday waiting for you

Chapter 2:

When people know you've tried to kill yourself, they treat you differently. For starters, even though it's been nearly three years since that unmentionable night, my mother still won't let me out of her sight for more than a minute at a time. My twin, Presley, is even worse.

"Hol? You almost done in the bathroom? I have my time of the month and I need tampons before school."

I groaned out and flushed the toilet, making sure to leave the lid open so she would be able to hear the noise clearly through the shut- never locked- door. I waved goodbye to the slew of medication as it was sucked down the pipes. Presley shuffled her feet at the same time I shuffled mine towards the sink.

I ran the tap water on high and sat down on the bathroom floor, humming a tune that had been stuck in my head ever since I woke up this morning. I was unsure of its origins and it had been driving me crazy trying to figure it out all morning.

Presley knocked on the door. "Holly! Seriously, you've been washing your hands for a lifetime and my school starts before yours, remember? I need tampons!" My sister sounded almost unattractive when she whined, I decided.

I stood back up and turned the tap off just as the bathroom door was swung open by my very impatient sister. She looked around the bathroom suspiciously before ducking underneath the counter in search of her salvation. "Where are they?" She muttered, "…Gotcha! Ok, thanks for getting out of the bathroom ever so quickly." Presley batted her eyelashes at me and tucked a tampon into her checkered school bag.

I bowed low to the floor and said sarcastically, "Why you're ever so welcome. Nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Presley brushed some of her long hair out of her face and snorted. "Right. Just don't be dead when I get home, ok?" Now it was my turn to snort. She wrapped me in a vice-like grip that I suppose could have passed for a hug. I was slightly taller than her so Presley's arms went around my neck tightly.

Her hipbone poked me through multiple layers of clothing and I jutted my butt back to avoid it. "Ow." I mumbled before I could stop myself. Presley released me from the death trap and whacked me on the side of the head not lightly.

"Stop it." She told me, like I'd been the one to hit her.

I was still rubbing my head when she turned and left me in the bathroom. I followed her downstairs quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace with my presence. When I got into the kitchen I stopped and sniffed.

"Hello Toast!" I greeted the delicious bread slices warmly and sat down at the bar, where three slices had already been set out for me. Presley didn't look back and the door slammed behind her. While I started lathering my first piece with butter, the purr of an engine started in the background, marking her exit.

My mom walked into the room, munching. I narrowed my eyes at her hand where she held the fourth piece of toast. "That would explain why I only have three."

She stopped chewing and looked up at me, almost bored. My mother never looks anything but bored these days, except when Presley's home. Then she almost looks eager. "If you want another," she said around a mouthful, "tell me now."

I huffed. "I think you should ask the friendless toast what it wants, Miriam." I used my mother's first name, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of her. A blink was not what I was hoping for.

"Your school bus should be here in another minute. I'm going grocery shopping later so I'll have my cell with me. Don't do anything stupid or illegal because I don't want to make the drive."

I gave a fake yawn. "What a shame. I was thinking arson today, seeing as last week I sampled grand theft auto."

Miriam brandished the toast toward me as if it was a weapon. "Holly, stop. You're lucky that Chief Swan dropped those charges. He had the power to put you behind bars. You stole his daughter's truck for fuck sakes!"

I shrieked and plugged my ears with my fingers, shouting loudly, "You cursed! Dr. Owens says I don't have to listen if anyone curses at me!" When I saw my mother rush forward angrily, dropping the half eaten toast to the floor, I squeezed my eyes shut and tensed.

Her cold hands grabbed my face and I flinched. She did something funny to my cheeks, because the next thing I knew my eyes were being forced open. I stared up at her flushed, wrinkled face as she clenched my face harder. It started to sting. "Stop it! Just stop it! I'm trying, Holly, but I don't understand! I don't understand you! Help me to understand!"

"You smell like smoke," I rasped out, my voice sounding squished. Miriam shut down and she, thankfully, let go of my face. I'm sure it was red. I wondered if the redness would add the sparkle to my eye Presley always gets when she wears blush.

We both just looked at each other until, finally, the bus announced its arrival with a series of loud honks. Miriam sighed and held her head in her hands. "Go," she sounded defeated. "Just get out." I grabbed my dingy checkered bag off the counter where it was sitting next to my last bits of toast. My bag matched Presley's, except mine had character. I had drawn all over it.

When I looked back as I was shutting the door, my mother had the same bored expression on her face. I wondered if she practiced it in the mirror. I had concurred that, yes, she probably did practice, when I mounted the steps of the bus.

The driver, a fat sweaty man, nodded and smiled up at me hesitatingly. "And how are we today?" I stared at his fat spilling over the buckle of his pants. I watched as he shifted in obvious discomfort. I bet my mother pays him extra to make feeble conversation with me every morning. I felt sorry for him. His left hand was bare, indicating he wasn't married.

I had ruled out girlfriend, too, when he motioned for me to continue to my designated seat on the bus after he finished checking my name off his list.

Including myself, there are exactly five other people who ride the cheery yellow bus every morning to and from the reservation high school. I only ever paid attention to one of them- a smart looking girl named Kim who never seemed to stop blushing. She was my seatmate.

Her stop was also before mine, so as I made my way towards our shared bench, she shifted her bag over, giving me the room I required. Kim tucked a piece of her dark hair behind her ear and I stared at her skin. Unlike my stare with the fat driver, this stare was not designed to make Kim uncomfortable.

I didn't think I would do that. She was nice to me. I kept staring at the skin on her arm, mentally comparing it to mine. I wished my skin had the healthy russet glow hers always seemed to have. I hated my whiteness. It didn't fit in here. Kim also had one nice freckle that I was envious of. Both Presley and I only have freckles on our backs, where generally nobody can notice them. Kim's left arm was littered with them. I tilted my head forward and laid it across the back of the bench in front of ours so I could study her right arm.

"Hi, Holly." Kim greeted me louder than normal and I jerked myself into the normal upright sitting position, mimicking her. "What's up?" Her voice had quieted now and I noticed the faint redness to her cheeks.

"Nothing," I said honestly. The word echoed around in my skull.

"Bad morning?" She asked me.

I nodded my head forward. "Yup." I popped the P and kneaded my hands together.

"Me too."

And that was it. The rest of the ride was sat in compatible silence. I lived the closest to the reservation, so I was the last to be picked up. The bus pulled up to the school minutes later, and we all exited.

I kept my head down as I walked, focusing on how many steps I was taking. School always begins and ends in a blur to me. Today was not going to be an exception.

I was halfway through my first period class, History, when I blinked rapidly and sat up straighter. I held in the groan and laid my head back down onto the table with a thud. The person next to me- I didn't know his name- scooted his chair slightly away from me. I didn't blame him.

I realized that my scarred hand and arm was lying out, directly in front of me. I sat up and started to tuck it underneath the desk, only to pause in horror when I realized I was wearing a t-shirt. I recoiled from myself and looked around. Nobody seemed the wiser to my sudden mental clarity.

I nudged my bag open with my foot because it was on the floor and spotted my sweatshirt inside. I thanked god I hadn't remembered to take it out this morning and quickly put it on and zipped it up as high as it would allow. I popped the hood on over my head, too.

I tied the drawstrings under my chin and let my head plop back onto the table. The sound shattered the silence in the room, save the scratching of the pens. Was I supposed to be taking notes? I thought about it for a moment, and then decided I didn't care. The boy next to me scooted even farther away and I cringed inwardly. I didn't want to be here. I really, really didn't want to be here.

Throughout the last bit of History, I degraded myself mentally, replaying the flashbacks of this morning when I stupidly flushed my pills down the toilet instead of taking them. If I had taken them, I wouldn't be sitting here like this. I'd be in my happy little land, free as a bird with no inhibitions.

Only after promising myself that I would go home during lunch to take them, could I finally zone out completely. My eyes stayed unfocused until the bell rang and I walked, all too aware, to my next class- English.

In English I pretended to read a chapter of Hamlet and in Math, the class before lunch, I didn't pretend to do anything. Mr. Gillinger wasn't there and the substitute seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I knew how serious those could be and I consider it a public service that I didn't burden the poor sub with any questions….or movement. The base of my spine got achy because I held myself so still. There wasn't a reason for it, other than to prove to myself that I could.

When the bell signaled the end of Math and the beginning of Lunch, I calmly weaved through all the students crowding the cafeteria halls and made my way to the exit. Upperclassmen were allowed to leave during lunch, so long as we were back on time for our next class. It gave me about an hour.

I snuck out of the side, feeling like a criminal, which was weird, because I was allowed to leave. I kept my gray sweatshirt bundled up all around me like a cocoon. The gentle mist that had been surrounding the school turned into a steady drizzle the faster I jogged away. Even though I'm bussed to and back every day, my house is in walking distance from the reservation high school.

I aimed my feet straight and counting the breaths echoing through my empty brain. I heard cars starting all around the student parking lot behind me. Not a lot of students had cars here, but those that did never stayed during the hour lunch break.

I picked up my pace once I was on the street. My sneakers sloshed through little puddles but I ignored how cold my feet were becoming because the quicker I jogged the sooner I'd be safely home. I faltered in my steady beat when a delivery truck rounded the corner, disturbing the peace. The tires were definitely spinning faster than the allotted twenty-five miles per hour and I watched mud and rain drops squish out of the way to avoid being hit.

The driver didn't slow as we approached each other and I kept my eyes locked onto the wheels. I thought about jumping in front of the truck so I slapped myself across the face- hard. "Stop." I told myself firmly. The slap helped more than the word so I slapped my other cheek, making my neck snap to the side and my palm sting.

I alternated slapping the sides of my face the rest of the way home. When I finally was standing on the porch, I blinked rapidly, trying to remember when I climbed the stairs leading up to the front door. I was still trying to remember even passing the mailbox out front when I found my key at the bottom of my bag and let myself into the house.

The gust of warm air helped to ease the pain in my stinging face and palms. I tore my sneakers off and dropped my bag on the mat next to them. "Anyone home?" I asked the walls.

Walls don't have voices, so I didn't get a reply. I checked the time on my outdated cell phone and my heart leapt in my chest- I had twenty minutes to get back to school. I didn't know where those extra minutes had gone and I wasn't in the mood to question myself today.

Upstairs in the bathroom I found what I needed- my medication. And a hairbrush. I brushed my hair first, dragging the teeth through the lumps my dirty blonde hair had formed. Presley's hair was inches longer than mine and perfectly in place- always. I pulled out a few more strands and then stopped procrastinating.

I shook out five pills, all from different bottles, and dry swallowed them one by one. I immediately felt nauseous after the last pill stuck its way down my throat. I turned on the tap and drank straight from the stream. The cold water splashed into my stomach, giving me the feeling like I was a water balloon.

I didn't want to go back to school afterwards. I stared myself down in the mirror until the colors of my face started to swirl together, leaving behind a messy splotch of gray. Shaking out my head only made it worse.

I walked aimlessly through the house afterwards in a daze, ending up in the kitchen. My stomach rumbled approvingly, angry at me for only having three pieces of toast this morning. I pressed my forehead to the steel refrigerator door, letting the cool work its way deep into my brain.

I felt hot and claustrophobic all of a sudden, which wasn't unusual, so I stripped the sweatshirt off. My jeans went next, as did my socks. I left them there in a damp huddle and spooned myself some yogurt directly out of the container. I brought the spoon and the yogurt with me back upstairs and sat down in my bed, underneath the covers.

I burped loudly and shoveled in the last of the yogurt. It didn't have much of a taste and felt like I was eating cool worm guts. That thought gave me the strength to put the container and spoon down on the floor. I turned over and nestled into my mattress.

I didn't have to wait long before sleep came to me.

XOXO
ಠ_ʘ
XOXO

I woke up the same way I had fallen asleep- quickly. My eyes just sort of popped open and I got out of bed, stepping right into the yogurt container. I didn't know what time it was and frankly, didn't care. I wiped my foot off on the rug as I made my way to the bathroom.

I wiped my hair out of my face because it was sticky with sweat. The mirror in the bathroom revealed that my normally green eyes were a little bloodshot. I fiddled with my plain earrings and sat down on the toilet lid, leaning my head down on my knees. I groaned at the same time my stomach gurgled.

A knock on the bathroom door jolted me up. "Holly? How was school, you ditcher?" My twin's voice carried its way through the door and she sounded like she was standing right next to me.

"Go away." I mumbled.

Presley did the opposite. The door burst open and knelt down on the plush rug in front of the toilet so we were at eye level. When I raised my eyes up to meet hers, I was met with a blow to the side of the face. I held in a laugh because my face was already numb. I barely felt the slap she had given me.

"Stop." Presley told me seriously. "You need to get your shit together, Holly. I mean it."

I stuck my tongue out at her, "Dr. Owens says I don't have to listen to anyone who curses at me."

She stood up suddenly, dragging me with her. "The school called after you didn't come back. I intercepted it- you should be glad Fork's High gets out sooner than the reservation. Mom will be home soon with the groceries and- Holly? Are you even listening to me?"

My attention didn't snap back to my sister. It snapped to the stairs, which we were currently walking down. "Can you make me some toast, Presley? Pres, Pres, Presley?"

She shoved past me, leaving me on the stairs. "You didn't hear a single word I said, did you?" Her voice got louder and harsher, "You're probably not even listening to me now, are you? God, no wonder why mom can't stand you." I froze. Did she really just say that? I wasn't positive. And the onslaught wasn't done.

"What are you doing to do if I wasn't here? Starve? It's a toaster, Holly! I want to hit that therapist who said you were unfit to use one." I sat down on my spot on the stairs and listened to my sister bang open draws and violently shove the toast down into the slots.

Presley came back around to where I was a minute later. I counted.

Her voice was soft this time. "You want butter on the toast, right?" I nodded quickly and held up four fingers. Presley took my hand in hers and kissed it. "Four pieces. I got it."

I scooted down the rest of the stairs and crawled into the living room. I popped on the TV to the station where you didn't have to pay attention to follow what was going on. I think it was a game show. I zoned out and let the bright lights of the TV burn holes into my eyes in the dark room. My twin brought me four pieces of buttered toast at the commercials and I ate them happily.

I don't know where she went after that. Miriam got home just as the show was ending and I was eating the last bite of my snack.

My mother didn't ask me to help bring in or put away the groceries and I didn't offer to. I watched her struggle with a silent fascination. I wondered why she didn't ask for my help. It would be less strain on her. I allowed myself to think of what Presley had said: my own mother couldn't stand me. I had suspected something was going on, but dislike never crossed my mind.

Shame filled me and I curled up further into the couch, hiding.

My mother's warm breathe woke me up long hours later. I cracked my eyes open and was followed by immediate discomfort. "Did you sleep out here all night?"

It took me a moment to flip myself over on the couch and get my bearings. I looked up at my mom and shrugged. Miriam sat down on the couch next to me and whispered for me to turn around before she started threading her fingers through my tangles. Neither of us said anything.

Presley walked past the doorway silently and grinned at me. "Don't forget to take your pills, Crazy!" Her stage whisper reached my ears and my mother's hands faltered when I nodded. Presley, happy with her day's work I suppose, flounced out the door. I assumed she was going to school.

Miriam pulled me back against her, so I was resting my full weight on her chest. She kissed the side of my head and sighed. "I miss this, Holly." She confessed to me. "I know you're still suffering and I feel like there's nothing I can do about it." My mother sniffed loudly, right next to my ear.

"That was loud." I remarked.

She gave a half laugh. "What was? My nose?" I nodded against her and felt my hair get messed up again. Miriam rubber her hands up and down my arms. "Sorry, baby." A weight settled in my chest and I had the distinct feeling that she was apologizing for something else, too.

Author's Note: Don't worry! The wolves are coming, I swear. I kept the "T" for this chapter and I'm still debating if I should change it for the next or not. I also get the feeling I'm more of a "once-a-week" kind of update girl, but if you want me to update sooner, let me know in a review! Thanks to everyone reading this! xx