Page 4 of Shadows Within
While most people resort to journals or therapists, I box and listen to a playlist that could drown out just about anything. Putting my gloves on brings me a sense of calm, followed by a rush of control I don’t feel anywhere else.
I’m never fully angry, just near my limit. I carry around so many different versions of myself and I’m not sure which one fits best. I’m the quiet girl, daddy’s girl, the girl who doesn’t call her mom back. I’m the boxer who looks out of place, a star student, a psych major. There is a saying that people who study psychology want to help others. Maybe we’re just desperate to understand ourselves? I definitely am.
I step into my room and switch the light on. Flopping into my desk chair, I pull out my laptop. I have two papers due next week, so I push down all my distracting feelings and savethem for another day. My brain is sort of like a filing cabinet of emotions—I don’t open it unless I have to. And if I can’t quiet my mind on my own, I throw some punches at the gym until the noise dies down.
The rest of the evening plays out like a typical Wednesday night. We eat leftovers, Dad tells me about the car in the shop, he asks me about school, then tells me how proud he is of me.
I make my way upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, undecided if I want to go to the gym in the morning to get a few rounds in before class, or if I want to wait until the afternoon. I pack my bag anyways, just in case. As I climb into bed, I check my phone and see that Sophia texted me.
Sophia:Still good to come to the senior party with me at the end of the month?
Scarlett: Yeah!
Sophia: You need to wear those new jeans and that black top that make guys forget how to speak.
Scarlett:You’re insane.
Sophia:And you love me anyways.
Scarlett:Unfortunately <3
Scarlett:Goodnight xoxo
Ever since that night from first year, Sophia always checks in multiple times before a party, in case I change my mind. I have other friends, but we don’t see each other much, and I’m content with life this way. Over the last four years, a lot has changed, and I’ve grown apart from many friends that used to feel like home. While I stayed in Millhaven, most of my other high school friends moved on to universities out of town. It’shard to maintain friendships with people when I’ve always got so much on the go. We’re all busy and don’t stay in touch often, but we know we can rely on each other. It’s the kind of friendships where we could go months without talking but can pick right up where we left off. I also don’t make new friends easily and there aren’t many people I can relate to in my program. I think about Sophia and smile. I’m glad to have a friend like her.
I turn my phone on ‘do not disturb’ and place it on the nightstand. I lie in the darkness that fills my room. The world silences around me but my mind never does. There’s always something just beneath my surface— memories I haven’t dealt with, questions I haven’t asked, or a hope for change that may never come.
A shift is coming. I don’t know what it is yet, but I can feel it, just out of reach.
Sweet Science
Scarlett
8:23 a.m.
I squint my eyes to see the bold red numbers on my bedside clock.Shit. I slept in.
“Ugh.” I roll over and climb out of bed. I stumble across the hall into the bathroom and pull my hair half up, not bothering to brush it. I’ve always had Dad’s hair, light brown and coarse, Mom has long, beautiful blonde hair. While it’s not all natural, its honey colour shines through no matter how much she tries to cover it. As I finish getting ready, I try not to think about her. The house feels emptier without her, like it’s faded over time, but I know that’s a void that I can never fill.
I rush downstairs to see Dad before I take off for the day. He’s in the kitchen reading the paper with a mug of black coffee in his grease-stained hand.
“Morning, Dad.” I bend down and give him a kiss on the cheek before pouring a coffee for myself.
“Morning, you must’ve slept in. I wasn’t sure if you were going to the gym?” He looks to me and scrunches his face.
“I was going to get up and go before class, but I must have missed my alarm. I’ll go tonight.” I plop a piece of bread in the toaster and force it up before it has a chance to pop out.
“Sorry, I’m in a rush! Love you, Daddio.” I grab my coffee and head toward the door.
“Love you, Kiddo.” He takes another sip and goes back to his reading.
I walk out to my 2003 BMW X3 in our driveway and scramble to find the keys in my bag. This car has seen me through all my good and bad days. She’s not new or subtle, but she runs smooth and smells like motor oil and coconut. She likely has more of Dad’s fingerprints on her than mine, but she’s still in good hands.
I veer into my usual spot close to campus and grab my coffee and bag before I make my way to class. I hurry toward the health science building— I have two lectures there today. The crisp fall breeze is strong enough to push my hair away from my neck but not cool enough to give me a chill.
Everyone rushes by in a hurry. It’s still early in the school year, and a lot of students are still figuring out where to go. Something about all the new people gets me curious. Why are they here? What’s their story? We all have one to tell.
Langford University is beautiful at this time of the year. The older stone buildings covered in vine look like they belong in a storybook, but only on the sunny days. On rainy days, each building seems dreary, dark, and mysterious. Some of the students here also have the same cold feel to them.
