Hopes, baby. That’s what you got. A bad case of the hopes. They sneaked upon you when you weren’t looking. You think maybe it’s not gonna happen. You think maybe you’ll find some way out. Some word that’s still alive, some word that will make it all different...
"What grade did you get on your biology final, Clem?" The clangs of silverware on the dining room plates dimmed and her parents looked up expectantly at the ginger, her fork still pining at the seasoned leaves of spinach and carrots on her plate. "Oh, um…" Placing her fork to the side of her plate, she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the white napkin and cleared her throat. "I got a B… Minus. On the biology final."
"A B minus, Clem?" her father growled, shaking his head at the thought of any grade lower than an A. "I’m sorry, dad. I tri-" "Obviously not hard enough. You’ve really disappointed me. You should have studied harder. Science isn’t a hard subject, especially not biology. Go to your room." The girl took a sharp breath in. "But, dad. I haven’t finished my din-" "Go. I don’t want to have to ask you again." Dropping her fork, Clementine quietly scooted her chair out and walked out of the dining room, trudged up the stairs, and rushed into her bedroom where she fell onto her bed with a quiet thud.
A small cry escaped her lips, tears welling up in her eyes at even the thought of her disappointed parents discussing what punishment would be fitting enough for this ‘crime of the century’. The littlest things set her parents off and that’s why it seemed that Clem was always walking on egg shells. How many weeks had it been since finals and why hadn’t they asked about her other grades? It was clear that her worst was biology and the B- didn’t do anything to help her case but she had been trying. Cracking open books was an understatement for the Christian girl. Every minute during her free period was spent studying what the exact definition of a gene was and how to spell deoxyribonucleic acid correctly.
This was the first time that Clem was going to venture into the dangerous habit that she had never done while her parents were home. The throbbing- itching- burning feeling that constricted around her arm was too much for her to handle by herself and by the arguing downstairs, it didn’t seem like either of her parents were going to pay her a visit. Muffling her increasing sobs for comfort, she fumbled for her nightstand light, opening her drawer with the other hand as her shaky gropes for the tiny piece of metal that provided such self-destruction. Blae clouds tumbled past her window and the wind shook the panes, begging the girl to stop where she was. There was no stopping her now.
Quiet, she told herself. Quiet. Grabbing the comforter of her bed, she shoved it into her mouth to prevent further sound from leaving her ajar mouth. The child needed to scream- let every emotion inside of her get out. She put in all this hard work and dedication for nothing- weeks of being stuck at the library, quizzing and re-quizzing herself until she fell asleep on a pile of books and was late for her next class. And here I thought it couldn’t get worse.
Shiny, the piece of metal glistened in the little light provided by her nightstand lamp. It was so tiny, resting in the pale palm of misguided imagination and countless hours of self-hatred. How could a single seed, planted in the brain of a poor young girl, sprout into a large tree of angst with strong vines of miscommunication corrupting every little ounce of hopeful sap. This was only supposed to be temporary, the pain- the sadness- the feeling of depression wrapping around her lower spine all the way up to her neck. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.
Even with her eyes closed and her teeth gnawing together through the blanket, she couldn’t help but let out a shout of remorse for the lost happiness inside of her as the red sour candy began to trickle down her arm. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. The girl let out another strike, letting the silver puncture her skin once more, a long diagonal line without much hesitation present. Happy now? her skin screamed, crying it’s crimson tears of sorrow. No. She would never be happy. Not with the metal shoved as deep as she would let herself, arm hugged into the chest of her black sweater.
Letting the comforter fall from her mouth, her sobs were more present- louder than she would usually let them be, blood seemed to pour out from every corner of her little earth, rapids and waterfalls of stinging soreness wriggling and squirming to be released. Clem pulled the pillow over her head and kicked until the blankets were low enough to pull on top of her trembling body and smiled. She smiled to hide what she was feeling from her mind- hoping that in a magical poof all of her anxiety would leave. Smiles hide so many things. What was one more going to do?
Audrey’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as she spoke, Rhiannon was someone who Audrey cared for greatly. However, when she spoke she only rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself bursting into another fit of giggles. “Such a dork,” nevertheless, she continued through her laughter “-drifting through the wind, wanting to start again.”
With a straight face, Rhiannon tilted her head to the side, eyes switching back and forth between her friend’s almond beauties. “I think... I think you need to talk to a therapist,” The girl lamented, corners of her mouth still straight as a line. “Nobody should feel like that. Ever.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Audrey giggled, sticking her tongue out in reply to her friend.
“Okay, okay." Rhi stifled a laugh, brushing beautiful red hair behind her ear. "But I have a serious question.” The girl placed a hand on the other’s shoulders, looking off into the distance where the clouds met the housetops. “Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?”
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