Page 7 of Ruin

“I thought maybe you went to show your face,” he adds.

I stop in front of my locker. Another flower. The same flower as yesterday.

Well, at least they aren’t showing up in my car anymore.

“Do you know who’s sending you them?” Ash asks. I shake my head. I have no idea. A part of me doesn’t care, but it’s been going on all summer. Whoever’s leaving them either needs to show me their face or stop leaving them.

Grabbing my books for my first class, I shove the flower inside my locker. That’s when I see them, Lileah, some of the hockey team, and a few of her friends.

Before they can walk past me, I slip into my classroom. Math. I hate it. I probably won’t even pass. I have no idea why I even need to take it. It won’t help me in the future.

Then again, I don’t even know what my future looks like.

A part of me never thought I’d be alive past sixteen. The number of times I considered ending my life, just to get out of the hell I live in. But here I am. Senior Year.

With no idea what I want to do with my life.

I take a seat in the back, thankful no one else is here yet. Maybe I can get through the year without being noticed. Stay in my own little bubble.

Taking out my notepad from my bag, I open it and flip to the page I was working on last night. I was always good at drawing; it was one thing I learned from my mom. She was the best artist I’d ever seen.

When she was alive, I never cared about art. But after she was taken from me, I needed something to connect me to her.

So I picked up a pencil.

At first my drawings were colorful. Happy.

But over time they changed.

Now, my life is nothing but darkness.

Pain.

That’s the only thing I see now.

“You should show Mr. Benson this, you know. Ash leans in closer, watching as I add detail to a drawing of a hand wrapped in a snake, blood dripping from the wrist.

In class I draw nice simple things, so the teacher won’t ask questions about my work. “You draw some dark shit, you know,” Ash mutters.

I smirk. He knows. He’s seen the things I’ve drawn, the things I feel. The things I wish I could do.

I stop sketching when I hear a group walk in. Lileah. The hockey team. Another girl.

I quickly shut my pad when I feel someone standing at my desk. I don’t look up, but I see her through my lashes. Lileah.

“My brother’s not happy you didn’t show up yesterday.” She takes the pen from my hand and taps it a few times, and I finally look up at her. “Advice?” She smirks. “Don’t piss him off.”

She tosses the pen onto my desk and walks away.

This is going to be a long year.

Math dragged on. I zoned out for most of it, which sucks because if I fail, I’ll be stuck in fucking summer school. That’s the last place I want to be.

Maybe a tutor will be a good idea. But that means being in a room with someone I don’t want to be alone with.

I can’t win.

English is better. I loved it at my old school. I liked the teacher.

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