How to disappear

Bernadette

(dream) - Salvia Palth

She emailed my mother.

She. Emailed. My. Mother. 

I'm a dead woman; a walking corpse just skulking the earth awaiting my inevitable doom.

I have two nightmare scenarios in my life; I'm talking the most heinous and horrible things that could ever happen to me.

This is one of them, the other already happened and I don't really feel like crossing both off of my list.

Pride is not an emotion I feel when my actions from the past hour come to mind, the grovelling and whining is not my best look however feeding my mother's never ending whore pipeline propaganda for me is worse. 

It's too late now, she's going to know and I'm dead.

I don't know what Miss Clarke told her, but I don't doubt Hudson was mentioned there somewhere.

Fuck. Mom's gonna kill me, I mean I was already in hot water last night from the coffee stain and now? 

It's my second day here and I've already messed everything up.

Breathe. My chest heaves with every intake of oxygen. I'm yet to find some way to numb this ache in my soul.

I thought about smoking, first I would have to find some way to get said cigarettes. 

Maybe it's for the best though smoking doesn't really seem like my thing, then again, I don't really have a thing.

Perhaps music is my coping mechanism, or maybe it's my most intricate form of self-harm. Either way it sometimes feels like all I have, I've never really felt like myself ever.

However, that's beside the point, the problem at hand here is my mother.

Can I loiter around here until she passes out? But it'll happen eventually I might as well stomach the wound and move on.

I can feel a root rotting beneath me, the illusion created in the last two days is rapidly decaying, the stability I fooled myself into believing, and hope that the normality of this place was mine to keep.

Maybe I'll linger here. Maybe I can become the moss growing on the asphalt. Maybe I'll embody the wilting flower on the bush, slowly meeting its destined ending. Or maybe I'll plant my roots in the grass, I'll be firm and grow prosperous for once. I won't fall this time.

"Betty! wait Betty wait" The loud and slightly maddening voice rings in my ears, bouncing off of the walls.

Of course it's Porter, just my luck.

I should've just gone home, "Porter? did you not catch the bus?" He stares at me with a bewildered expression painted on his features.

"We just had a game, you should be taking notes so you know in the future. For Hudson." 

"Excuse me?" I can hardly believe the words that exit his mouth sometimes.

"You know, for you guys' future" 

"I'm sorry wha-" My voice is cut off by a much lighter one, "Porter leave her alone, we're all tired of the hudsodette talk" 

The hudsowhat? 

"Aww brookie, are you jealous?" As Brooklyn ambles closer to us I get a closer glance at her--Her skirt is uneven, clearly unrolled, her knotted ponytail swishes in the cool wind and her mascara has smudged down her rosy complexion. I watch as she lumbers towards us with a sluggish pace, she's debilitated and I can feel the agony emanating off of her.