Author’s Note: This story continues from Phylicia’s Arch Rival. Thanks everyone who posted to my last story. Because of the excellent feedback I received last time, I wanted to write another one.
It had been the tea.
Or that’s what I’d been telling myself on my way home. Ever since I left her house, I had been in some bizarre state of shock. Questions, too many to handle, about my sexuality, my relationship with Audrey, my behavior, my future, my reputation in the school, they flooded my mind. What would my friends think? What would my mother think!? I went through these distinct stages of panic over and over.
I was walking mostly. Then I’d run. Then I’d run faster; until my thoughts changed, and I’d walk again. The trip home was, simply, an emotional rollercoaster. The scenery was beautiful, as always. I lived in a green, hilly suburbia. The houses passed, all unique, all well-dressed in picket fences and gardens. It was a high-middle class neighborhood. A dog barked somewhere, the sound of a sprinkler. In the distance, I could see our beautiful park. I really did like it here.
But not today. Today, I could only think of how I hated this place. I hated my school. I hated my teachers, friends, and parents. I hated Audrey. I hated my world, for giving me this loathsome situation. I hated myself.
I couldn’t believe I’d done the things I did. I was crying. It wasn’t a loud cry, just one of those soft ones you get when you stub your toe or watch a sad movie. I walked numbly into my house. Slowly, I sat down and put my bag beside me. I looked horrible. My hair was a mess, and I felt gross and sleazy all over.
I withdrew my homework and put it in front of me. Suddenly, I had a feeling of disgust in the pit of my stomach. My mood shifted as I looked at my tutor notes, the scribbles of diagrams and explanations, messy arrows pointing to the wrong things. All of this was wrong! I didn’t even give her a good tutor lesson. I was too caught up in lust or whatever you wanted to call it. I felt defeated. Everything I had worked for was meaningless.
I ran to the shower tearing my jeans and t-shirt off. I started it, freezing cold. Slowly, I dipped a foot into the spray. Tears were still coming as I stepped completely in. The cold water rattled my body. I fought against it, gritting my teeth. I put my head under the spray, viciously cold. I shampooed, conditioned, and washed my body vigorously. I couldn’t tell if I was still crying or not. My mind raced again. Right now, I just needed to be clean.
I washed again. The soap needed a second chance, a third, a forth. I sat down this time and scrubbed my feet. My left pinky toe wasn’t clean yet, damn it. Damn my fucking left pinky toe. This is all your fault! If it wasn’t for you, none of this would’ve happened. I collapsed, breathing hard. I laid there for a while, numbly cold. I stopped crying. My chest moved up and down and my arms shivered. I was sure I was smarter than this.