Laye
My mind is racing, Elle and Jemma's frantic questions sound a mile away.
Bum, bum, bum.
I can only hear the sound of my heart and breathing. My head hurts; why is it suddenly so dark?
•••
"Do you think we'll grow old together?"
Her voice comes into clearing, bright and mellifluous. Her brown hand in my pale one, her eyes on the stars.
"I don't know." I say. The dark black paint on my nails makes my skin look even paler, unlike her red nails, which complement her warm skin tone perfectly.
She smirks. "What a romantic reply."
"Well, you know how I am with the whole talking thing." I say, trying not to smile, but failing.
Her facial expression suddenly gets serious. "What would you do if I had to leave?" She asks.
"What do you mean? You're breaking up with me?" I ask.
"No, no no no. I'm just asking, like what if I was forced to move?" She asks.
"I'd fight to have you stay." I reply, and she stays silent, only moving to lean her head on my shoulder.
That night was freezing. In fact, it was the year's first snow. And we spent it together, on the roof of that old broken down car shop, pointing out constellations and talking. All as the snow fell.
Two days later I get a phone call from Serenity's mom saying she committed suicide. She blamed it on me. I wasn't even allowed to go to the funeral.
They never found her body, though.
•••
I open my eyes, not recognizing where I was. I look around, cream colored bedding, posters covering every possible spot on the wall. Then I realize; I'm back at home.
I take the headset off, and sit up in bed. I haven't got a single clue what day it is of what month, I just know that I'm hungry. Starving, unbearable hunger.
I stand, ignoring the wave of dizziness that rushes over me.
I head to the kitchen, avoiding stepping on any broken shards of beer bottles. I open the fridge, and guzzle down what was left of the milk. I stuff leftover Chinese takeout into my mouth, and swallow in time to hear footsteps pound my direction.
"Who's there?"He yells, looking around the room before landing his gaze on me.
"It's just me, Dad." I say. It hurts to talk.
"Laye? What happened to you?" He asks, more angry than sympathetic.
"What day is it?" I ask.
"It's Tuesday, stupid." He says.
"So it's only been two days since I've cane out of my room?" I ask.
"No, it's been a damn week! I figured you'd died!" He yells.
"Oh, sorry." I say.
"You look like the walking dead! You're even paler than normal!" He yells, and a single tear falls down my face. He sighs, "Just- just go get yourself cleaned up." He says.
I walk to the bathroom, and look myself in the mirror. I was as white as paper, and my cheekbones stuck out. The roots of my hair were unkept, the dark black clashing with my skin. My cheeks turn blotchy red, just as the tears come.
There's a knock at the front door, and I wipe my face with the back of my hands as I storm out of the bathroom. I open the door to see Mrs. Dennie standing there.
"Hello- Oh, dear! What's the matter?" She asks.
"Um, I haven't eaten in a bit." I say.
"For a hundred years?! Come to my house, I'll fix you up." She says. I don't know if she can fix me up, though. I feel like I need a doctor.
An hour later though, I felt fine. Mrs. Dennie made me drink my weight in water, and also this mixture of what she said was a mix of a bunch of different nutrients. She said I might feel a little nauseous for the next couple hours, though.
"So, what have you been doing this week?" She asks.
"I've been laying around in my room." Only partially a lie.
"And not eating or sleeping?" She asks.
"I was fasting." I say sarcastically.
"You talk to me like that, girl, and I'll cut your tongue off." She says, smiling. She wraps her hands around the cup of coffee in front of her, and looks up.
"Sometimes, you look just like her." She says.
"Who? My mom?" I ask. She nods her head slowly, making it clear she hadn't meant to speak out loud.
"She was pretty ugly, then." I say.
The old woman snorts, almost choking. "No, no. Your mother was gorgeous. Totally out of everyone's league. I think the only thing you didn't inherit was her self confidence." She stands up, patting my shoulder, "When's the last time you've been to school, kid?" She asks.
"It's been a few months, I think." I answer.
She sighs, "I just wish you'd want to better yourself. Get an education. Of course that's your choice, but still- I"
I stand up. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dennie. I best head back home. My dad might start to get worried," I interrupt.
"Oh, of course. Sorry for keeping you so long. You stay healthy, girl. I'll be watching." She says.
"I'll try." I say, walking out the door.
I walk down the street to my house, and slide the key into the lock. It opens with a click, and I step inside. Instantly I smell the faint scent of alcohol and cigarettes. I look into the living room, where my dad was asleep on the couch, a cigarette burned down to the filter between his fingers. I let it out against the ash tray, and head back to my bedroom.
The clothes all over my floor, the posters on my wall, the headset sitting on my bed.
I sigh, flipping the switch to turn the heat on. I slip the headset on my head, and lay down.