The Babysitters

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I stared. Once. Twice. And when the realization of the situation dawned upon me, I quickly took Trystan’s hand and pulled him outside with me.

“How did I get it?” I questioned, running out from the cafeteria.

“How would I know?” he gave me an accusing look.

“W-What do you mean? I stuttered, halting midway.

“Now don’t go all Justin Bieber on me,” he snatched away his hands from my hold. I rolled my eyes.

“Listen, there is no way I could get a hickey,” I waved my hands in the air.

“And why is that?” he asked, his eyes still holding the accusation.

“Don’t give me that accusing look,” I frowned, “You were there with me the whole time, yesterday. We met at Dylan’s place, took the shopping list, and then went to Wal-Mart to-”

I stopped, suddenly. The events of yesterday played like a movie in my head. Finally, everything became clear and my eyes went wide. Trystan was mirroring my expression.

“Wal-Mart!” we both exclaimed.

“So it was you,” I concluded, my mouth ajar.

“So it was me,” Trystan repeated my statement. His foul expression was replaced with a smirk now.

“Sunshine,” Trystan smirked, his hands on my shoulder, “I know you are proud to be mine. But I will suggest you to hide that stuff. We don’t want our personal life to be on display, do we now?”

I scrunched my nose and broke the side hug.

“I am never gonna have anything personal with you,” I emphasized each word and walked off from there.

“Your intentions looked far from this, yesterday,” I heard him shout behind me.

Mumbling all the insulting words I could use for Trystan, I entered the lavatory. I took out a scarf, which fortunately I was carrying today, from my bag. I was already late for the lecture so being a few more minutes late won’t make any change.

I tied the scarf around my neck. Winters had almost began to arrive so it didn’t look weird. Plus, it perfectly hid my hickey. What else could I ask for?

“Perfect!” I grinned, looking in the mirror. Once I was satisfied with my look, I turned around to leave - only to get bumped into someone.

“Uh-huh! Criminal spotted,” the awfully familiar voice smirked. I balanced myself and looked at the owner of the voice.

“Not now, Britney,” I warned her.

“Are you threatening me, Samantha?” she stepped closer to me.

“Take it the way you want to,” I said, trying to walk out of the lavatory. But, of course, Britney won’t let me go.

“I am not scared of you, criminal,” she spat.

“Stop calling me that,” I said, my hands curling into a fist.

“What? I am just calling you by your identity,” she laughed, the laugh which erupted anger within me.

“Oh really? Then what should I call you?” I took a step closer to her, “Hideous, selfish, or a traitor?”

I saw guilt cross her eyes, but it was gone so soon that for a minute I wondered if I saw correctly or not. She pushed me away from her, “At least, I am not a murderer.”

“I did not murder her,” I hollered at her.

“Yes you did!” she shouted at the top of her voice, “You killed her. I always knew you envied her but I never knew you would stoop so low. You are such a terrible s-”

Before she could complete her sentence, my hands made contact with her cheeks. The slap echoed in the whole lavatory. She looked at me with shock, her eyes filled with tears. I could also feel tears streaming down my cheeks.

“You are terrible,” she whispered, “Fear your sins, Samantha. Fear your sins.” With that, she ran out of the lavatory. And I was left alone.

I collapsed on the ground and let my tears freely run down my cheeks. My breathing became uneven and my body was trembling.

“I k-killed her,” I muttered, “I killed her.”

I started taking deep breathes. A faint memory of my therapist blurred in my mind.

Next time you encounter such panic attacks, remember to close your eyes and count till ten. I remembered his advice.

Closing my eyes, I started counting, “O-one.”

But that was it. I could not speak much. My throat was paining. My vision was getting blurred.

“T-two,” I continued.

There was a knock on the door, but I was too weak to go and open it.

“T-three,” I kept counting.

“Sunshine, are you inside?” I heard Trystan’s voice. I tried to stand up but my body refused to move.

“G-Go away!” I shrieked.

I heard him sigh, “Sunshine, you missed half of the lecture. I had to get myself into a dentention in order to get out of the class and search for you. I was worried sick. What’s wrong?”

I did not reply him this time. Instead, I continued with my counting.

“F-four,” I whispered, my vision blurred with the tears.

“Samantha, open the door,” he commanded from outside. I could hear the concern in his voice. Something that I did not deserve.

“Stop worrying about me, Trystan. You are wasting your time on someone like me,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my mouth.

“Wh-- Samantha, open the door or I’ll break it,” he shouted in anger.

“Can’t you see I am bad luck. I’ll ruin you too. It’s better you leave me alo-”

I was unable to complete my sentence as Trystan broke the door and ran towards me.

“Crap! What happened to you?” he bent down beside me.

“Leave me alone,” I protested in a weak voice, my breathe coming in pieces.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed, “you reek of tears and sweat. People will die if they came around you. I have to protect them, duh!”

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but what he said made me cry harder.

“Nobody will care to come n-near me,” I hiccuped, “I am not a good company.”

He looked at me for a minute. Then slowly he tucked the strands of my hairs behind my ears. After that, he started cleaning my face with the sleeves of his shirt. Once he was done, he held my chin and made me look up at him.

“What happened?” he asked, gently.

I shook my head, “you will hate me.”

“How can I hate you?” he cupped my face, “Girls like you are made to fall in love with.”

I shifted backwards, removing his hands from my cheeks. Hurt crossed his eyes but I ignored it.

“Girls like me are made to be hated by everyone,” I smiled, “Girls like me don’t deserve guys like you.”

“W-what?” he asked, confusion dancing in his beautiful brown orbs.

“I made everyone suffer,” I continued, “Dad, Mom, Jenny, Britney. Everyone.”

“Brits?” he raised his brows, “What does she has to do with it?”

“A lot,” I said, closing my eyes. A drop of tear escaped my eye.

“Sunshine,” Trystan pulled me closer to him, “Stop blaming yourself. I know you can’t do anything to hurt anyone intentionally.”

“But I did,” I confessed, looking into his eyes - which now held fear.

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