Clio's point of view:
The clock next to my bed is shining just barely too bright for my eyes in the dark. Instead of 5:30 or even 6:00, I have to be up at freaking 4:30! Who comes up with this shit for school anyway? I roll over without looking to turn off the alarm and cover the too bright numbers with my pillow when my phone starts to beep. I know exactly who it is and I don't answer. A few blinks later I pull the blanket off my body trying to force each breath.
"Shit"
I breathe as deeply as I can manage and whisper to myself yet again. I swear sometimes I am crazy. Do other people do this? Do they talk about it? Is it normal to just crack like this?
"A panic attack really?"
After a few minutes of being folded in half on my bed, panting like an idiot I stop. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. At least that is what I whisper to myself while walking towards the bathroom. I leave the door open. No one is here so it doesn't matter what I do. Deep breaths. It has been 6 months now since I started living on my own. The silence of it no longer rips me apart. It just slices through me clean but deep. At least it doesn't sting anymore. I notice that my phone is still beeping as I bring the tooth brush to my mouth. It is so nice not worrying about braces anymore but those extra seconds after I finished brushing left me feeling guilty. I have little to no excuse for not answering. The beeping stopped as I got into the shower. A tiny bit of relief. As I rinse the peachy shampoo from my hair I hear my wolf's voice.
"Thank you."
It doesn't feel like I am talking but I know it must be me. From the way my mouth moved to the ache in my throat. That was my voice. In this moment as the warm water runs down me I'm invaded by the most overwhelming realization. Why do I find clarification now, like this? Why ALONE? Finishing with my shower. I shudder and reach for my towel. As always my clothes are hanging on the bathroom door. Something about that image hurt, stung me like a slap. I suppose the feeling has something to do with my mother. She spent a lot of her time teaching me tricks to keep things clean and organized. She used to smile and tell me to use the door handle to hold my clothes up when I was too small to use the door itself. I guess it was so they wouldn't wrinkle, or get covered in dog hair. I force the image from my mind. Staring into the mirror with a towel wrapped around my body I see myself. I don't look at myself for a long time because I am alright but nothing special to see.
"You are always yourself no matter how the world sees you. Your own opinion is enough."
I tell myself this every morning. It usually brings me strength but today I feel plain, not particularly attractive or unattractive in any way. It isn't like my face has pimples or is oddly shaped. I can't help but notice my just won't tan pale skin. I know my face fits with itself but it reminds me too much of my Parents. From the way my nose sticks straight out and chin is so soft and yet to be defined by time. My eyes are a deep blue that reminds me I am my mother's daughter. The sound of my cell is bringing me out of my head and back into the bathroom. This time it is a song. The song Leta recorded on my phone with me last week. 'Complicated' that word in her voice is an echo in my head as the piano plays. I wrote the song about her, for her. She knows it but somehow she still pretends she doesn't know. Maybe she doesn't want to know, maybe that would be better but how could her knowing be any worse than this. I want to keep ignoring her but this is a text. I know that when I pick up my phone it will show me her words If I want them or not. I pull myself from my thoughts and look into the mirror again. I am dressed now in black jeans torn naturally from my compulsive scratching, a black off the shoulder top like the one from that movie cry baby. I laugh as the thought fades "crybaby" a phrase I heard far too often the past few days I have to get control of myself. I smile into the mirror and realize that my arm is wrapped around my waist. My head is slumped so far over that the faucet actually blocks a portion of my reflection. I breathe again. I don't know for how long I watched myself like that before I stopped.
The makeup I wore was simple black eyeliner, nude lips and mascara to make my light lashes the same color as my dyed hair, a deep brown. My heels, bright red pumps perfectly matching the dark tone of my retro blush. Time passed almost instantaneously in my head. I left my apartment and walked lost in thought. I pass the pool house, pass the park, and pass the sidewalk that we used to ride our bikes down. I really must get her out of my head, must think of something else. By the time I was aware and in control again I was at the front steps of the school. Almost instantly I knew this was a bad idea. I should have called in sick and let my understudy take over the practice. I should have taken her call, checked the text. The entire group all together warming up and in 'costume' I wore my own clothing. The only thing fake about me now was my too expensive shoes and the foreignness of the make-up. Focus on the little specifics and then this ache in my heart will be dulled. I left my phone at home. I never looked at it. I pretended to wake up late. Silently explaining why my lips weren't redder my hair was not curly why I was awkwardly walking over to Leta.
Before I could speak Ms. Caitlin began to give a speech softly but firmly silencing everyone in the courtyard.
"All of the stage crew and main performers are here now. So we can begin talking about the program for today. The first show is at noon. Hence we are all here at the asscrack of dawn before the school's regular busses show up. Does anyone have an issue with me cursing today because I will probably be doing a lot of it! Good..."
I let my thoughts trail off. It dawned on me that everything is different now. I am not a girl who can go home to mommy and daddy crying saying everything is falling apart. They are gone, one conversation and suddenly my family just ceased to exist. At Least I have Talon but he's been at the vet all weekend. I see Leta her face is makeup free as it always is. Then again beauty should never be tampered with. I only hope that she understands that everything does not have to be different, at least not with us. I wonder if maybe everything is, hell I know it is. I want things to be exactly what they were. I realize as I watch her so focused on the speech Ms. Caitlin was giving about our effort and how much we have achieved. God I wish she understood. I should have checked my phone. Screw it I am just going to talk to her.
"Pssst, Letta. Leeetttaaaa!"
I tried to sing-song my voice to keep this light hearted and cover the crack as I said her name. She didn't waiver for a moment, either I was being betrayed by my own shy hesitance or she was purposefully ignoring me. I reached out for her, just to touch her shoulder and let her know I was there. She stole a chased glance at me and moved just out of my reach. Does she know I saw her look at me? Does she know it is me? I can't go on like this. My heart is pounding in my ears and my fingers are shaking. Trying to take a step closer to make her see me and really look. I need to talk to her now. What was that? I think I heard a crunch. I am on the ground. My heads pounding for a completely different reason. My heel was broken. I see Ms. Catlin holding out her hand, I take it. And Letta... It seems I fell into her. Not lightly, not gently, our bodies slammed into the pavement.