Page 2 of Dead Valentine

I change out of my scrubs and back into my school uniform. The task of putting this uniform on everyday is incredibly tedious. I slowly pull my black knee high socks on and then pull up myblack, red and white plaid skirt. I shake out my white button-up shirt before sliding my arms into it. My attention keeps going back to the doors, making sure I’m still alone as I button the shirt up. Luckily, I never fully undo the mandatory tie, I only loosen it when I take it off. I tighten it around my neck and adjust the collar, making sure there aren’t any wrinkles in it. They are very particular about it. Any alterations are forbidden, and you’re never to appear unkempt. I put my blazer on and button it before putting my feet in my ballet slides.

As I leave the science building, I hear students chatting about the hockey team and how great they’ve been doing. I’ve always wanted to go to a game and see the extent to which a person can push their body while gliding on the ice or exchanging blows with opposing team members. In order to remain safe, I watch highlight reels on my laptop in my dorm. The elite have never harmed or bullied me like the other girls, but I much rather not chance it. Especially at a game. I’d just be asking for a blade to the throat or a hockey stick violently shoved inside me. I’m intrigued by the idea of rough sex, but maybe not in that fashion.

What is that? I’m frozen in place as I stare at my door. My nostrils flare with anger, realizing the bitches have struck again. Why can’t they just leave me alone? Taped to my door is a blown up picture of me in class, fascinated by the cadaver on the body tray. Written in bright red lipstick, the picture saysCORPSE FUCKER.

With as much composure as I can muster, I look around to make sure nobody is around to see that I’m bothered by it. When I see that the halls are empty, I yank the photo down and tear it in half. I step inside and quickly shut it, leaning against the door after locking it behind me.

I tear the picture up until it looks like confetti and toss it in my trash can. A huge smile blooms across my face when I turn towards my bed. The black wrapping paper is smooth under my impatient hands. I tug on the twine bow and pull the black envelope free. In sloppy handwriting, the envelope says :

My phone glows across the room when I pick it up to check the time, I let out a deep sigh. There’s still another hour and a half until I can open it. I carefully pick the gift up and put it on my desk. I give it one last longing look before removing my uniform.

Once I’ve changed into my comfy, oversized sweats and hoodie, I grab my laptop and crawl in bed. Crossing my legs, I put mylaptop on my thighs. I go to the school website and check for the hockey game replay. My fingers tap rhythmically on my laptop, occasionally hitting refresh, waiting for it to be posted. The clock catches my eye, only an hour left until I can open my present. I look at it longingly, wishing it was midnight now.

When I hit refresh once more, the game appears on my screen. I click on full screen for the video and lower the volume as it starts to play. I pay close attention to the way they glide across the ice gracefully. The movement of their feet, the placement of their legs and how they hold their bodies. I desperately wish it was a sport that could be done naked, just so I could get a look at how each muscle ripples and moves beneath the surface. I’m fascinated by their strength and agility. Sometimes I wish I could be friends with them, just so they would allow me to watch up close. There are times that I wonder if my misfit is on the team, but really it’s just wishful thinking. He seems too private to be involved in any type of team activity. If he’s who I think he is, then he definitely doesn’t fit the mold of a hockey player. He’s still perfect, though.

I sigh thinking about Kieran and how I wish I could run my fingers through his chaotic hair. I’d pick sitting and watching him in his art class over watching the hockey team any day. I’d be captivated by his art, the movements of his fingers as they grip his medium. A shiver ripples down my spine as I imagine his fingers and what they could do to my body. Would they be rough? Gentle? Fueled by passion? Would it be like the passion he has for his work? A notification sound on my laptop pulls me back to reality. A chat bubble appears on my screen with the usernameHER_MISFIT221and I blush.

HER_MISFIT221:What are you thinking about, my little dark one?

BEEP

HER_MISFIT221:Such a pretty smile. I look forward to drawing it.

I furrow my brow in confusion. How does he know I’m smiling? I look around the room as if he’ll pop out and greet me.

BEEP

HER_MISFIT221:Eyes up, doll.

I look up and see my webcam indicator turn blue. Everything he does should terrify me. Instead, I find it endearing. My life should feel like it’s in danger, yet I feel protected. Important. Cherished, even. He takes time out of his day to watch over me, draw for me, send me gifts that have meaning. All things he knows I’ll love.

BEEP

I look up and see another message from him, blushing that I was caught daydreaming of him.

HER_MISFIT221:It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you go grab your present. I want to watch you open it.

HER_MISFIT221:Look at my doll blushing so beautifully. I wish I could feel the warmth of your blood beneath your skin.

I shiver at his words and put the laptop down before grabbing the present from my desk. I climb on my bed and cross my legs again, putting the present in my lap. My eyes flick between the chat window and the time. Just as the time shows12:00AM, there’s another notification.

HER_MISFIT221:Happy Valentine’s Day, my little dark one. I hope you love it.

I squeal in excitement and start tearing into the wrapping paper.

BEEP

HER_MISFIT221:So eager, doll. Slow down. Don’t forget to read the note first.

I feel my cheeks heat up again and look at the camera on my laptop. “I’m sorry. I’m just really excited.”

BEEP

HER_MISFIT221:Don’t be sorry, doll. I love seeing your excitement. Makes me think of all the other ways I can make you excited.

“K- can you not make me blush.” My heart races, realizing I almost slipped up and called him Kieran. I don’t even know for sure if it’s him or not. I feel like knowing might upset him since he hasn’t revealed himself yet, and if I’m wrong, he would be very upset by me calling him another man’s name.

BEEP

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