Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 16. 2024.
"So, what's up?" Vincent watches her intently, referring to her presence at a public (well, not public-public) school. The highschool is a private, rich-kid school, but it's surprising for her to be casually roaming outside. He flatten his palms on the table waiting for an answer.
"I graduated and came here to complete my secondary level of education." She tells him shrugging and twisting a fry between her fingers. She then pops it into her mouth.
He watches her silently, nodding without much of a reaction to her words. He asks, "So, where are your buddies?"
She swallows her food before responding dryly, "Dead."
"Even--?"
"All of them." She adds firmly, lifting her head to glare at him. He really needs to shut up. What's it to him? Stop prying.
Three seconds of awkward silence passes between the two and Vincent unapologetically moves on with the conversation. Alessia doesn't seem to have been bothered much on the outside, but she's definitely rotting inwards as she cleans the crispy skin and tender, warm meat from the chicken bone.
"What are you planning to do when you leave school?"
She stiffens. Her eyes are casted on the bone she hasn't put aside yet and her jaw rotates tightly around her mouthful of food. She truly has no idea. She didn't plan for what should happen next. A big step or a small one? A jump perhaps...off a cliff? "That's personal." She states after a while.
"Oh..." He straightens on the little stool attached to the circular lunch table and clears his throat, "...right. I don't have a filter. Just saying in case I offended you."
An apology would've been nice. "Should've said that from the beginning, 'cause I'm fucking offended."
Vincent states at the blank girl as she shoves fries into her mouth. "Are you really?" He isn't sure she is. He can't read her at all and she barely gives him anything more than a glance. Although it takes him ages, he finally takes into consideration that his presence may be unwanted and he pushes away from the table, huffing, "Yeah...that's it. I finna yeet. Nice conversation." He rises like a lazy tiger, wakening from a slumber and stretches high. Then, he leaves, thinking about how boring she is now when she was pretty chill back at the institution.
As soon as he disappears out of sight, all the tension that had built up in the muscles of her face, neck and arms are released in one hefty sigh. That boy is too much. He's so full of himself that he can't tell when he's crossing the line, or is he dementedly delusional? Oh how badly she wanted to chole him out on the table. And, even now her hands are flexing.
Was Petro right all along? Should she have stayed with him? She's already frustrated and damn good at hiding it, but her inner-demons are peeking out. Why? Because these privileged toads which she doesn't even know, nor care to know, are trying to get on her nerves for God knows what reason. Is it so wrong to be someone unknown in the world of the wealthy? Is it so wrong to shove the barrel of my sniper up their asses and pull the trigger?
Alessia sighs again, getting up to empty the scraps of food from her tray. She ate so much, yet she doesn't feel full. She starts towards the covered bin by the door of the cafeteria, a little dazed by how much Vincent's brash personality affects her, and she trips over a skinny foot in spike heels.
In the bland, levelled atmosphere of chatting, eating students, the loud sound of the metal tray clattering to the tiles quietens everyone and eyes flit to the new girl. She's pushing up to her hands and knees. A few people are sniggering, but the loudest is shrill and exaggerated. Alessia grits her teeth. For a moment—a blind split second—the silver line holding what little morals she has snaps.
She grabs the metal tray, hauling it from beneath the rubble of leftovers scattered everywhere and she stands roughly with a deadly gleam in her eyes. However, her contacts are void, darting to Amanda's admittedly beautiful face, creasing uglily in mockery.
"Hah..." A cold, soft breath passes sinisterly through Alessia's down-turned, parted lips.