Sommerstall Academy
: Chapter 12

I need to get out of this car.

First off, I’m confused about my feelings about earlier tonight. Or more precisely about Elija’s behavior. I know I should be mad at him for telling me what I could and couldn’t do and maybe even intimidated by how he was about to attack Liam. News flash; I don’t think I’m either.

I think Elija was trying to look out for me. He probably should and would have said it differently but Liam was trying to get a raise out of him all evening. Therefore, his little outburst was understandable.

Also, and don’t judge me for this, the way his two friends had to hold him back was somehow attractive to my hormone-controlled brain. Then he told me he was taking me home in that rough voice I can’t stop thinking about. What kind of person does that make me? Liking it when someone tells me what to do.

I’m glad Elija went back to normal quickly. However hot his moment of anger might’ve been, I love that he is well-mannered. Also, I was getting flustered.

Second, I need a moment of quiet to think about all the things I learned this evening. I want to remember everything important about Elija and his friends and I’d like to sort out my thoughts about the whole Ricky thing. It has nothing to do with me and I shouldn’t think about someone else’s business but I can’t help it. Liam was comparing me to her all evening and he even called me Elija’s new chick.

Was it just part of making Elija mad or does he honestly think there’s something between his not-friend and me?

And lastly, now that I mentioned my aunt, I can’t stop thinking about her. She and I used to be really close back when my parents were always busy at work. I probably spent more time and laughter with her than with my mom and dad combined. She got sick when I was about ten but it didn’t get bad for two years. In the end, it was a good thing when could let go after a year of fighting for every breath.

I was thirteen and devastated and my parents thought that the right time to start taking more vacations. To this day I’m pretty sure them leaving me so often was because I reminded my mother too much of her dead sister.

That was probably the source, at least. Now they might just enjoy the changes of scenery.

‘Florence? We’re here.’ I startle at the male voice beside me but am quick to recover. I set a smile in place, knowing it’s less than convincing. Maybe he won’t notice and if he does, maybe he’ll believe I’m just tired.

‘Right! Thank you for the ride home and for letting me tag along tonight. I had a great time. Goodnight.’ The words escape me automatically as I reach for the door handle and escape the car as if my ass were on fire. I shut Elija’s door before he can even say something in return and unlock my door with numb fingers.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so overwhelmed right now. It’s not like anything happened. It’s just those stupid memories and painful thoughts I always try hard to stay away from. Is it normal to still struggle with the loss of a person this much after more than four years? It might be considering she was the only person to ever accept and love me unconditionally.

There was no need for good grades to get some affection in return and there were no uncomfortable clothes so I looked the way my parents envisioned their daughter. Maybe it still hurts this much because I know I’ll never get that sort of relationship back.

I shut my front door behind me and lean my back against it. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths and tapping my rhythm on the solid material of the door. I try to tell myself I’m fine, that there’s enough air in the room. It doesn’t feel that way.

Slowly, I slide down until I sit on the floor. I pull my legs towards my chest, trying to feel any sort of comfort while still tapping the rhythm on my knees. In an attempt to think of happy things, I envision daisies in a wide, green field. I think of my books, my drawings, and even school. It hardly does anything against the bitter hopelessness in my chest.

My skin feels too tight, my clothes suffocating. I grip at the hem of my shirt, then the skin underneath it. Feeling my ribs is what finally pulls the first sob from me. I hate how they feel. They’re too prominent, too tight around my lungs, and too pointy beneath my fingertips.

I try to get a good grip on one of them so I can pull it away. They’re squeezing me. I can’t get enough air.

Another sob cuts through the silent house but I can’t hear it. I can’t hear a single thing other than my heart’s frantic beat. It’s trapped behind my ribs and doesn’t have enough space. It’s suffocating in its tight cage.

I give up on trying to pull them away. It never works. Instead, I start running my nails over every inch of skin I can reach. It’s my skin’s fault for being this tight. It doesn’t fit me. I don’t want it anymore.

When even that doesn’t help I resort to curling into a ball on the floor. I run my hands into my hair and try to pull on it. It looks like hers. It’s another reason my parents left. Another thing reminding them painfully of what they lost. It’s my fault for being so much like her. Or maybe not enough.

I’m too lost in my frenzy to notice the warm hands wrapped around my wrists until my fingers can no longer grasp my brown strands. I open my eyes, trying to scramble away from the intruder but my vision is too blurry and the grip on me too tight to allow an escape.

I hastily blink away my tears, my heart going a hundred miles per hour. Finally, I’m able to make out a pair of wild, dark eyes, wide with panic. Elija’s lips are moving. I think he’s talking to me but I can’t process the words.

What is he doing here? I’m home alone. I was supposed to be alone so why is he here? And what is he saying? The confusion and frustration cause fresh tears to blur my vision and wet my cheeks. He’s not supposed to be here. No one’s supposed to see me this way.

I try to pull away from him again and he finally lets go of my wrists. I scoot back, wanting to feel something solid at my back again only to be greeted by a fresh breeze. Elija must have left the door open when he entered. It takes everything in me to realize I need to move to my right or I’ll fall down a few steps.

When my back is up against a wall, I can finally pull my legs back towards me and tap my rhythm. Elija is no longer speaking. I’m not looking at him but I can hear his heavy breathing.

I don’t know what to do as my own heartbeat calms a bit. I start feeling the effect of what I did to my body. My head and lungs hurt, my throat is dry and my skin feels raw where I clawed at it. I must look like a lunatic.

I’ll have to change schools because there’s no way I’ll be able to face Elija again.

As if he heard my thought, the guy in my house gets to his feet and walks away from me.