Chapter 5

I have time to take him all in. He looks cute. Curly dark hair, nice brown eyes, glasses. A knitted beige sweater, some jeans and some sneakers. He has a very academia look. Not at all matching with mine. I would describe my style as cool. Or that’s what they want it to be. I just accept. Like a loyal subject. “Why do you care?”, I ask him, my voice now close to shouting. I never shout at people. They wouldn’t like it. “Because I…”, he wants to continue and loses his words. Great. “I would appreciate it if you get the heck away from here”, I say. Poor guy hasn’t done anything wrong, but I am still close to puking. The look I got earlier. That look like I am a nothing. It still haunts me. The guy makes a step to walk away. He then decides on something else and comes closer to me. “The other way around would have been better”, I mumble, sinking my face in my knees again. The guy stops right before me and I can feel him looking down at me. He is tall. Taller than me anyway. Right now, he feels like a giant. He must have noticed since he kneels in front of me. Kneels. “Dude, what the heck?!”, I let out. We don’t know each other. He just stands there and looks at me, waiting for me to say something. I don’t know how to put it, but something about him makes me calm down. Makes me trust him. And I trust no one. So, I look up, and ask the first thing I can: “Why?” My voice is more even now. Lower. Not pointing towards violence. More broken. Realer. The guy only looks at me, his eyes wide. Filled with warmth. “No one should cry alone”, it’s all he says.

I wipe out the tear that escaped my eye. If she noticed, Mom had the sense not to say anything. We walk together through the doors of the florist shop. Mom goes straight to the counter while I wonder around the isles. My gaze stops on the daisies. I think I might puke. “Serena?”, a familiar voice asks. Familiar, yet long forgotten. I turn around, and the person gasps at the sight of me. She quickly hides her shock with a polite smile, yet I heard it. Saw it. And my blood already started boiling in my veins. I get it. I get her shock. She must have already gotten used to my short black hair. It’s only a bit shorter than shoulder-length, so not that short, but a difference compared to how long my blonde hair used to be. I did this haircut in my senior year, so she had enough time to get used to it. The scar on my forehead is new though. And the red faded in my eyes too. So are the clothes I am wearing now. A black T-Shirt, black jeans and black sneakers. All topped with a black hoodie. I remember how I looked a few years ago. If someone looked at the yearbook photo of me in ninth grade, they wouldn’t recognize me. I used to be such a nice girl. My hair was styled in one long braid, a pink dress matching the look. I was everybody’s good girl. A little doll they were able to use. I changed. A part of me died in the process. I could never go back to that. I don’t want to. Yet I want that part of me back. The part that died that day. “You look…”, Candice even dares say. She was in my class in high school. We were seatmates for a long while. She was a cheerleader like me. We spent much time together. She grew up now. Her ginger hair and freckles remained the same, but her eyes, they are more mature. And she works at the florist shop. “Bad? Horrible? Say it, Candice”, I let out, my voice like a bark. I haven’t spoken to anyone in two months. My voice feels raw. New. “Sad…”, she replies, a bit worried about me really. No shit, I almost let out. “Well, this was a fun reunion”, I say, wanting to walk away.