Haunted Eyes

I still find myself asking why I didn’t die that day. Maybe it would’ve been better if I did.

The morning light slipped through the curtains, pulling me from sleep’s reluctant grasp. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, the weight of the day already pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Every morning was the same, the same gnawing dread, the same anxiety clinging to me like a second skin. The thought of facing another day at school where enemies lurked like predators in the halls, made my stomach twist. Especially today. Especially because I’d be facing it alone.

Getting ready felt mechanical, like a ghost of myself going through the motions. The mirror reflected back someone hollow, dark circles under my eyes, the kind that only sleepless nights and endless overthinking could create.

The dark blue eyes staring back at me looked like the ocean on a foggy day, endless, empty, and lost.

Slipping into my choice of comfort for the day I slide my fuzzy socks over each foot. Feeling the soft plush of fabric cushion my feet sends waves of cozy sensation up my legs and throughout my whole body. The gentle pressure of my baggy sweater and jeans against my skin feels like a comforting hug, offering a sense of security and relaxation.

Before rushing out the door I consider checking on my best friend Hannah. She was out late last night doing whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted. I didn’t have that luxury, it’s something I envied more than I liked to admit. I find Hannah cozied up in her bed counting sheep, figuring she’s probably deeply hung over.

Unlike Hannah, I didn’t have much freedom. And I sure as hell didn’t have a normal life.

I lived with Hannah and her mom Amelia, in a cramped apartment on Willow Street.

Because my own mom? She left when I was eleven and never came back.

At first, she was declared missing. Search parties. Police reports. The works.

But no one ever found a trace of her. Eventually, everyone stopped asking. And I stopped hoping.

Some nights, I replayed the morning she left, the way her suitcase didn’t look packed for just a business trip, the way her hug lingered a little too long. Maybe she found someone else.

Maybe she just couldn’t handle being my mom anymore.

Either way, the wound stayed, and the voice in my head never stopped whispering. What did I do wrong?

I shut Hannah’s door softly, grabbed my keys and phone, and stepped into the cold morning air.

Shouldering my backpack, I braced myself like a soldier heading into battle.

School.

The parking lot was a zoo. Kids clogged the entryway like human barricades.

I take a deep breath as I grip onto the straps of my backpack secretly thinking it’ll keep me safe like an invisible protective shield, I push myself forward hoping my feet will respond the way they should.

Inside, the halls buzzed with noise. Eyes felt like lasers on my skin. Anxiety gnawed at my ribs. I wished Hannah was here, I hate being by myself and just as if things couldn’t get any worse, my eyes meet his.

Dean Malarc the schools eye candy looking at me from across the hall with his deep mahogany eyes, eyes that I envy, eyes that I cherish, eyes that I could never have. His laugh intoxicates the air like sweet honey sending me into a kind of frenzy, as his idiotic friends surround his side.

He’s probably waiting for Cecilia; her name fills my mouth with a taste so foul I can only feel disgusted for thinking of her at all. I lean back dropping my gaze, when my foot gets caught on someone’s backpack, and -

WHAM.

My head smacks against the locker, sharp pain bursts across my skull. I curse myself under my breath as I run down the hall the laughter ringing in my ears like a mocking chorus, echoing through the caverns of my mind with cruel intensity.

I bolted into the girl’s bathroom, heart racing, cheeks burning.

And of course, because life hated me, Cecilia and her pack were already there.

Stuffing their bras with extra padding and over glossing their chapped lips. I turned to leave, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder. My eyes went wide as I felt them slam me against the cold tile wall.

Panic spiked through me.

Cecilia stalked forward, all fake nails and venom.

“Missing your guard dog today?” She sneered, pushing me against the tile wall.

Before I could stop myself, I spit in her face.

Her hand whipped across my cheek.

“You’re fucking disgusting. No wonder your mom left you.”

That one landed. Harder than the slap. Deeper than I wanted to admit.

I struggle to move, and her friend pins me against the wall even harder than before, I almost feel like the wall could open up and swallow me whole. I’m stuck and I can’t do anything about it, she’s way bigger than I am, besides three against one is not exactly a fair fight. Cecilia becomes satisfied once she sees my traitorous bottom lip tremble, and she smiles as her and her group finally dissemble, leaving me alone. Shattered.

I stood there for a moment, frozen.

Angry. Humiliated.

Completely lost.

I walk up to the bathroom mirror and touch the back of my head grimacing in pain. Looking at the tips of my fingers there’s no blood, so I just comb my hair a little.

I tried fluffing my hair, pretending like I could fix what was broken.

Gripping the edge of the harsh ceramic sink I fought back tears.

One more week, I whispered to myself.

One more week and this will all be over.

Only, deep down, I wasn’t sure what would come after. Or if I even wanted there to be an after.

I walk out of the bathroom barely able to push the door open when I see Cecilia running into Deans arms, he picks her up and kisses her, she giggles in response and lightly hits his arm saying “put me down” in between laughs. Sadist. Once her feet are finally reunited with the ground he flips his soft hazelnut hair, as it dangles in front of his face covering his angelic features.

Whoever said high school is the best years of your life was obviously either too wasted or too high to have experienced it. I wish I could say this is the part where Dean pushes her aside and runs to me kissing me passionately and confesses his feelings for me, saying it was all just a front and that he really loved me, but this just isn’t that type of story.