I glance around the bare white space, pushing my brain to accept that for the foreseeable future this will be home. Sitting down on the edge of the bed with a heavy exhale, I run my hand over the soft folded white comforter and pillow set, the new mattress unspoiled with a faint lavender scent lingering in the air.
New start.
New me.
New everything.
CHAPTER FIVE
EBONY
ONE WEEK LATER
I’ve spentthe weekend finishing up my entry assessments and talking my social worker off a ledge. Caroline had been assured that due to mycircumstances,a nice way of saying I don’t play well with others and will cut a bitch for invading my space—a warranted assumption with detailed reports to back it up—that I would have my own apartment.
The university was advised that I might‘flourish with less issues’if I had my own room away from the other students. I assured Caroline that I was happy enough where I was and that I haven’t thought about stabbing Megan once, not even when she ate my last breakfast bar.
I call that progress.
I swipe the paintbrush across my wall, the imperfect wash of black paint the last addition to my latest masterpiece. Stepping back, I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My heart thuds heavy in my chest, a spark of sadness filling my gut as the sigh of relief falls from my lips. The simple design is so much more than just harsh lines and darkness; the memories conjured that I have tried so hard to forget are heavy in every stroke of the drying paint. I have been sketching the design on my bedroom wall for the past week between classes. Second guessing every decision as the idea refused to be ignored. I hate how calming it feels to have this snippet of my past so openly on show like this—even if it is in the privacy of my dorm room. This black paint interpretation of what is missing in my life shouldn’t have a place here, but it does, and pushing back at what my body needs to feel settled will only lead to more unnecessary suffering.
The bird with the impressive wingspan, the compass with the pin settled due north, the butterfly mid flutter, all of the images pulled together with the dagger blade speared down the centre with the Gemini birth sign engraved into the handle. It’s simple and open for interpretation to those who don’t know the significance of each piece.
A knock at my door has me spinning around as I move across the polished wooden floor on bare feet, stowing the brush in a jam jar of cloudy grey water on my dresser and wiping my paint-splattered hands over the arse of my cut-off denim shorts.
I step aside, silently welcoming Megan in as she struggles under the weight of the cardboard box she’s carrying.Dumping it on my bed and shaking out her arms, she inspects her palms for callouses.
“I found these in the basement; I thought you could use them,” she cheerily comments as she shoos me forward to open the box.
“You found these?” I chuckle, pulling out the brand-new plastic-wrapped deep purple bedsheets.
“Found—yes,” Megan says decidedly, sticking with her barefaced lie.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I assure her, ready to demand she take everything back but keeping my mouth firmly shut so I don’t offend her.
“I didn’t do anything. People leave things behind. These were gathering dust,”
“In the locked utility basement?”
“Yes.” She fumbles for more of an explanation but gives up when I quirk a brow at her.
Rummaging around, I pull out a detailed invoice. “This receipt with your name on it begs to differ.”
“How did that get in there?” she squeaks, ripping it from my fingers, scrunching it up, and tossing it in the bin under my vanity table.
“Thank you,” I say softly, pulling her in for a hug she’s not expecting. I’ve come to enjoy the satedness that comes with hugging someone, my aversion to touch less of an issue now in the short time that I’ve known this girl. It takes her a second to realise what I’m doing as I’ve never initiated a hug before. She falls into the embrace, wrapping her arms around my back and squeezing me to her.
I wriggle as panic fills me, and she lets me loose.
I said it was getting easier, not that I was any good atit. Lowering your defences and letting people in was a good way to get a knife thrust in your back before I came here.Baby steps.
I pull away and run my paint-stained fingers over the cardboard box. My chest warming at her gesture.
“Nice to see you’re making this place your own,” Megan points out, running her manicured fingers over the wall, careful not to touch the drying paint.
The painting is a cruel reminder of everything I’ve lost, but it also proves to settle the ache inside me a little. I try to push aside the sadness that creeps into the forefront of my mind, my heart constricting painfully.
They left me that day and haven’t tried to seek me out since. Even after everything, I meant nothing to them, and although I realised quickly the sting of that truth, even after six years, it still burns like a white-hot poker slowly inching its way through my chest. Every passing day another torturous twist of the iron rod. They didn’t know who I was without them, and moving on with my life just acted as a reminder that I may never again feel whole like I had, as I play the actress in my new role of someone not completely fucked in the head.
