"What's wrong with some light stabbing?"
Delving into vigilante-ism, Charlie Redmond has balance everything from her superhero neighbor to her math tests to her inability to talk about her feelings. Unlike her morally righteous co-worker, Spider-Man...
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I knew it was time for a bath when people started turning away from me at the subway. People on the subway smelt like shit most of the time, so I figured it was getting noticeable. Days fell and flew, hours stretching and disappearing within seconds, with no way to mark my last bath or shower. Or the last time I washed my jeans or hoodie. To think, I thought I was getting away with it.
The bathtub was something I liked when I first moved here, it had been the first time I had ever had one. Excitement flashed through me when Zoey had actually bought bubbles for me, it was magical.
Bubbles and magic had drained out.
Warm water surrounded my neck and body, the pointless white bubbles long popped. Pruned up fingers wiggled through the water, watching the drops drip back down the pool. I closed my eyes, feeling the water as I sunk, deeper and deeper.
It passed my neck. Then my chin. Then my mouth. Then my nose.
Submerged in liquid empty, the muscles in my body un-tense themselves. Time felt non-existent. It was just me and the tub. A fire burned in my lungs, yet I don't want to move. I wanted to stay, floating on nothingness.
The body disagrees. Throat constricted, I jerk a little, forcing down the movements. Then my chest clenched so hard it shoots my head out of the water. Cold breaths slammed into me as my body tried to pull oxygen in. Biologically rejecting the world.
Once coughs and gasps expelled the water for oxygen, I curl my arms around my legs. Apparently, I'm like that for a while, since Zoey knocks on the door complaining she needed to use the bathroom. I dismissed her as I drained the bath and wrapped a towel around myself.
I laid in bed for a few hours, waited till the city quieted down before getting dressed. There was an easy rotation of hoodies and jeans, most of which were black to make it less noticeable that I hadn't changed out of the same four outfits in the past two months. A few sips of orange juice and a nearly gagged out piece of toast later, and I'm on the usual walk.
The airs bitter and cold, sneaking past my layers of clothes. Music blared out of my earbuds, but I can't bring myself to hear it. Autopilot moved me a few blocks out and over till I saw the building nestled between a law firm and a pizza parlor, not too far from a pharmacy down east. But I guess that's the ideal place for a clinic.
Two small empty couches make up the waiting room that stinks of lemon-scented wipes. Thankfully it's empty. Most people didn't like the idea of waking up at five to be here. On that part, no sleep helped.
Things always seem either too fuzzy or too sharp here. Today was fuzzy. Hardly remembering when I checked in, much less when sat down on the brown sofa, I stare out the window. Little droplets of morning down flash past the pane.
"How are you feeling, Charlie?"The office smells of soft detergent and grey. A large spinning chair placed in the corner and a stiff muted couch in the center. The coffee table was littered with knick-knacks that felt like a test. Like if you stared at one too long, it would prove you're unstable.
