By Ouanessa Nana
Rumination settled, the thought spiral settling in my bones before I had a chance to breathe, the errors slipping past my tongue, and snapping against my lips, leaving my jaw bruised and throbbing. My eyes darted back and forth as they watched me, their backs to the screens that were flashing the multicolored light of the ceremony, and the loop around my throat tightened. My heightened gaze was searing a flesh-eating brand across my face, snipping the fleck of vessels I had left.
I blinked at her, nodding, my hands cutting into the shiny laminated paper. The blood is warm as it leaks down my arms, I tear at it, hoping it can carve out the wounds embedded in me. It is hard not to listen or brush off the daggers that are constantly slashing.
My long sheer dress clung to my skin in clumps, as the wet drips from the clothes giving off a weird putrid smell. I gasp as my brain undergoes a peculiar pang of panic, submerged in intense throes, the glass crackling, the fractures, shards away from cascading. The rest of my ranking class all swished into their chairs, their eyes zipping as they turned to the monitors, our chorale harmonized in all its glory.
Harvey brushed past me, his perfect skin tucked under a suit. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispers and I whip my head around, fangs and talons raised as irritation flickers through me.
He disappears into the crowd but his touch and his voice linger, another trigger to catastrophize me.
I have no choice. Both ways I suffer, both paths I spill blood. At least here they’re better at covering up the damage.
Stacy looks up from her bowl, shoving spoonfuls of colorful fruit loops into her mouth. I smile, reaching a hand towards her.
“Your dress is ruined. You should go change,” She clicks, shaking her head at me as I pour the carton of milk over my head and drink.
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