I’ve been feeling particularly inspired lately. This is the latest piece. Warning, contains fairly heavy language.
“Hey you.” He says, dropping his bag next to me.
I glance up at him from behind the thin veil of hair that is my shield.
“Sasha asked me to talk to you.” He says.
I scowl from behind the hair. “Fuck Sasha.” I say.
He shakes his head, glancing at me. “What’s happened to you? You’re different.”
“Lots of things.” I say, remembering how different I’d been, barely two weeks ago.
He stares at me. “Talk to me. I’m your boyfriend, remember?”
“Ex-boyfriend.” I say quietly, and just like that it’s done.
He frowns. “Sorry, I must have missed this. What the FUCK are you doing, Amelie?” He’s shouting now, loudly. The other early arrivals are glancing at us, me slumped in my chair at the back of the class, and him yelling at me.
“I knew you’d be like this.” I say, the first fully formed, fully thought out sentence that had come out my mouth.
He swears at me, practically frothing at the mouth. “What happened to cool, popular, cheerleader Amelie? It’s like you flicked a fucking switch. You changed overnight.”
I smile bitterly. If only he knew. I tell him so, of course. “If only you knew. You’d understand. Or maybe you wouldn’t. You haven’t exactly got the greatest IQ.”
I’m alienating, I know I am, and that’s exactly what I want. Underneath the new hair dye, the dark attire, is a version of me that just wants to be fucking left alone, okay? And it’s taking all of my energy for me not to scream that at him.
“So tell me then.” He says, as I knew he would. So fucking predictable. “Help me to understand.”
I sigh, and shut my eyes for a few seconds, nothing more. When I open them, Sasha has waltzed in, and is watching us. Shit.
“My dad died.” I say eventually, leaving a pause just long enough for it to be awkward. He’s the first person I’ve told, but he doesn’t deserve to know.
“Jesus. Shit. I’m sorry.” He says.
I frown, tiredly. “No, you’re not. You just don’t know what the hell else to say.”
He shrugs, uncertain. “But why does that require you fucking dump my ass?”
I look him in the eyes for the first time, and he pulls the hair back past my cheek, stroking my face with his hands as he does so.
“I just want to be left alone.” I say, weakening. “Please.” I say, beginning to beg as a tear trickles down my cheek.
He stands up. “See ya ’round, bitch.” He says, as he walks to join Sasha. She cocks her head at him, obviously preparing to ask for the details of our encounter.
Two weeks later, they hook up. I don’t give a shit, but everybody thinks I have a right to.
It was expected. She was always prettier than me.
Damn he’s so predictable.
Seven months later, I give birth to a baby boy. I name him after my father. Poor kid’s dad doesn’t give a shit.