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“I-I just need some fresh air.” I start out of my room, with her close on my tail.
“Maybe it’s not that good of an idea. You know with—”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t need a mother. I had one, remember?” I bite back.
Liz stands there, still as can be, and I see the hurt in her eyes. I hate myself for it, but I’ll apologize when I’ve had a chance to get myself together.
I walk to the laundry room and throw my clothes in the dryer. My hands are shaking as I move the clothes over. Everything in my head’s moving a million miles a minute. I can feel a headache growing as I rub my temples. I start the dryer and stick my basket on top of it.
Flying out of the laundry room, I head over to the fire exit and push open the door leading to the stairs. I head down the stairs and out the building, walking around to the side and falling down against the wall.
I can feel my anxiety start to grip me again. Fuck. I run my hands through my hair and pull on the ends. I let out an exasperated breath and tip my head back against the stone of the building.
The wind whips through my hair as I stare up into the sky. I shiver, realizing I didn’t leave with a jacket. Running my hands along my arms, I take a deep breath. I need to calm myself. I don’t know if they’re messing with me. But I know I can’t let my walls down again. Maybe they truly have had a change of heart. I rub my face and let out a groan.
Whatever. I need to keep pushing forward.
Fuck. A couple months into this school year, and I feel like the end is never going to come. I’ve been through so much, so much confusion, so much hurt and pain, so much sadness. Then the kings come along and make everything ten times more complicated.
But also ten times better.
I lay my head in my hands and I scrub my face. Whatever this is, I don’t even think I can deal with it. Maybe they don’t hate me, maybe they do. I came here to get the fuck out of here.
Well, actually, I didn’t have a choice. People made selfish decisions that brought me to this point. People’s actions have put me in a shitty situation. Since being here, I’ve been tormented and bullied. I’ve been called names, had things thrown at me. They tried to drown me and scare me into leaving.
All for reasons I’ll never understand.
Pushing up off the wall, I steady myself and take another deep breath. I center myself and find my strength to keep pushing.
I so hope the kings are not playing some sort of sick and twisted game. After being with them, I don’t think my heart can take the break. Well, what’s left of it.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting out here. But I’m feeling a little stronger than I was, so I run up the stairs to my floor and I head over to the laundry room to get my clothes.
As I approach the laundry room, a foul smell is wafting down the hall. My face wrinkles as I try not to breathe in through my nose. What the hell is that coming from?
The closer I get to the laundry room, the greater the smell. It hits me that the smell is coming from inside there.
I shake my head, and my panic starts to creep up again.
I cover my mouth and nose with my hand and try to keep from gagging. Tears have sprouted at the corners of my eyes.
There’s a note taped to the dryer, and I shake my head, knowing that smell is coming from my dryer. It’s putrid, rancid, and I haven’t even opened up the door yet. I pick up the note and read it.
Now your clothes smell like the dirty whore you are.
“No. No, no, no, no!” I open the door to the dryer and immediately I am greeted with a smell so foul I turn to the garbage bin behind me and instantly throw up.
When I stop dry heaving, I run out of the room and down the hall to my dorm room. I burst through the door and run into the bathroom and douse my face with hot water. I take deep breaths and grip the sides of the counter.
“Hey, do you smell that?” Liz says as she enters the room.
The thought of what I saw sends me into a spiral again. I start to heave again and throw myself down against the toilet. Gripping the sides, I gag into the toilet.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Liz runs over to me. “Is it the smell?” She grabs a washcloth and wets it in the sink. Handing it to me, she rubs my back. “Just breathe.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do. Everything is ruined. Trashed,” I say through breaths.
She shakes her head. “What do you mean?”