Thrust Into His Arms

My alarm goes off shortly after I entered my room to pretend that I slept here so my parents would not know that I have actually been sleeping on the couch in the living room and avoiding mine.

My back kills me but it is better than sleeping on my own bed and be visited by that same nightmare.

The alarm gets me confused for a second knowing that I did not put it on before I remember that mom was the one who did because she and Dad want me to start a new school.

"You are never going to stop are you?" I came here hoping to get better sleep but this alarm just erased that. "Stupid!" I groggily roll on my side and stretch out my hand to turn it off.

How I wished that today would never come. I sigh, facing up to mindlessly stare at the ceiling. They think and concluded that they best way for me to get over my school trauma is to get thrown into another one. Sneakily working the admission process behind my back and announcing it to me two days ago like it’s a great thing. Expecting that I would feel giddy about the idea of walking into another hell. Take the bull by the horns? That does not apply to everything. Especially in this case of mine. I mean like. . . . What the hell? No sane person would throw themselves into a horrible condition again after coming out of it.

I bluntly told them that I would not go. I wanted to be obstinate. Planned to be. But they somehow managed to talk it out of me and made me agree and promise that I would try. My dumbass did not know when I fell for that and now I can’t take it back.

So here I am in bed on my new school day hoping that time would just freeze.

The apocalypse would suddenly come. Or that the damn sun would just fall on the earth and fry it already like scientist predicted.

But that would not really happen right? Those are just my frustrated angry thoughts.

I am bummed out. I may not feel much like living right now but that does not mean I want to die and become a ghost so soon.

Mom’s draggy footsteps comes before her voice in a singsong manner. "Gweneth honey. Are you still in bed?" I huff, drawing the covers over my head. Her footsteps gets closer and closer and finally reaches inside my room. "Honey. . .?"

I groan out, "Five more minutes."

"You don’t have a second. Get your ass up this instant. Do you want to go back on your promise and be silly forever?" She scolds.

I stalled as much as I could but it was inevitable. Dad insisted to drive me but I firmly refused by telling him that it would be similar to my first day at Krohns. The damn school is not even that far anyway. It’s just around the neighborhood. I feel like I am going back to eat up what I had vomitted because I had scrapped local schools out of my choices. Elite one, elite opportunities. But I only got elite troubles.

Being admitted late into the school year. I never asked how they managed to pull that off. The plan had been to wait until next year, but they just pulled the plug on that.

Westhill Highschool. Trepidation keeps on growing as I stare at the school’s building. There are students at every corner chatting. It is large and beautiful on its own but way less compared to Krohns. I just hope that that would make it less bad.

Those who see me might think that I am being normal. But I’m walking like a snail. Not having a human soul but that of a scaredy cat that would jump and run at the sight of anything it fears as I navigate my way into the building and find myself in a long hallway.

The students here are so rowdy. I am seeing a lot of them with unusual hair. I thought hair dyeing was rebellious and usual. But I’m seeing real unusuals right now; spiked hairs. Mohawk. One girl with Bob purple-dyed hair and piercings on her lips and eyebrows. She is wearing all black. Clothes, bag, Converse shoes and even lipstick. Not to mention the beanie she is wearing. Black with a white bold inscription saying; HATE U.

Are there no rules of dress codes in this school? Krohns brats were not so materially rebellious.

Is she just simply a gothic style girl, or she is going through a nihilistic phase? Whatever it is I think she needs to be checked and mentally screened before she murders someone and gets away with it. If she already hasn’t.

I do not know that I was staring at her until she looks right at me. Her eyes meeting mine in freaking contact!

Shit! I cursed inwardly and quickly look away. Walking fast, feeling as though I would pee my pants any second. I swear it felt like thunder. I peered over my shoulders to see if she is still looking. I fully turn when I do not catch sight of her and see that she is no longer there. I pat my chest, heaving a sigh of relief and kept on walking like a bimbo.

I am getting deja Vu of the time where I first saw and made eye contact with the demon Calix.

Just a few seconds in and I’m dodging flying objects. A tennis and a freakin skateboard in two separate instances. What a nice way to welcome!

Vibe? Zero.

Impression? Zero.

I’m turning to panic here. Should I just run out now and go back home?

Well at least they do know how to apologize. I might as well just see how the entire day goes.

Where am I even suppose to go first? Oh right. The principal’s office. And where might that be? Maybe it was a mistake not to let Dad tag along. I am too afraid to ask anyone to show me the way.

Why did I tell him that I am not a kid that needs to be shown her way anymore? I mentally beat myself up over it. ’You are such an idiot!’