Remember me? Remember that day you sat in the back row with your boys sizing each other up?
It would be a day I will never forget. You were wearing that black hoodie with your favorite jeans. They were the jeans with the three stitches on the left leg. You would wear them every Tuesday. But last month you started wearing them on Fridays as well. But on Friday you always wore either your blue hoodie, or on the hot days it would be your favorite band tee-shirt. You would talk about the singer as if you knew them to anyone who was willing to listen. You may even have had one of those band shirts underneath that black hoodie that Tuesday. You shot me a brief glance with those bright blue eyes. I knew you had noticed me before, but today would be different. Today would be carved in your memory.
I had on my favorite blue plaid skirt, my white top with long sleeves, fishnet stockings, and my favorite pair of black boots. I knew the stockings broke our dress code, but I had nothing else to go with my boots. And I had to wear my boots. They were the perfect place to pull my favorite knife out of. I had been practicing my throwing skills for the past six summers, and at least every other weekend during the school year. I'd been declared a knife throwing expert last year by the state and the archery camp I went to let me be a mentor for the younger students. I know you never knew about all that, I just wanted to make damn sure you'd never forget how stunning I looked.
That's when Mrs Parsons walked up to me. Of all the teachers I had that year, Mrs Parsons was always the kindest to me. She had just gone through a divorce the previous year. She caught her husband cheating, and the bastard still left her after she forgave him and took him back. I remember seeing her at least six times when she must've thought she was alone, and she was crying while grading some papers between classes. I never said much to her, but I always did my best to give her a warm smile whenever we made eye contact.
"We need to talk." She whispered while giving me a stern look, "out in the hall."
Mrs Parsons followed me out of the classroom. I could feel the states from my classmates like daggers. I looked up and locked eyes with Lisa.
I had known Lisa since third grade. She had always been a little blonde bitch. The first day we met, she told me that boys would never like an ugly brown haired girl like me, and that I should bleach my hair so we could both be pretty. She wouldn't sit anywhere near me since that day because my mom would never let me bleach my hair, at least not until I was in middle School. Eventually Lisa started to tease me about my brown hair. One time, she drew a picture of our class together. She made me look like a hunchback.
I saw her smug look on her face as I walked out of the classroom in front of Mrs Parsons. Lisa was playing with your hair as she smirked at me. Is that what you want, some little dumb blonde bitch treating you like her personal Ken doll? Did you want to play dress up, and house together?
I'm sorry, I still get a little worked up thinking about it.
I went into the hallway and Mrs Parsons softly shut the door. She sighed,
"What do you want to do here?"
I was surprised. I was expecting a more pissed off tone from her.
"You know the dress code. I can send you to the principal's office, or you can change into your PE uniform. But I can't keep letting you slide. This is the third time this week you've come into my class looking wildly inappropriate, and I can't keep covering for you."
Inappropriate? I thought to myself.
"Well frankly Mrs Parsons, I don't have my PE uniform, and I've been having issues with muscle spasms. It's very hard for me to walk right now. I can go to the principal's office, it may take me awhile to get there though…"
"Fine! I'll get principal Stark. Just stay out here."
Mrs Parsons walked down the hallway. I really did feel bad for her. I didn't want to lie to her, but I didn't want her to get mixed up with the mess I was about to make. As soon as she turned the corner, I went back into the classroom. As soon as I opened the door, the room fell silent. I locked the door, and pulled out my knife. I could feel the weight of their stares as I cracked a smile.
"Hey Lisa! School shootings are a bit overrated, don't you think?"
Screams flooded the room. I had a clear shot to Lisa's perfect little blonde head. I have to say, after seeing the blood drenched her face, she probably would've looked pretty decent as a redhead. That's when I looked up and saw the fear in your eyes. I don't know why, but those bright blue eyes made me weak in my knees.
Some people froze, others looked like they were about to make a move. Of course that's why I always carry a backup dagger. I rolled up my sleeve and a flash of steel silenced the rest of the room. I walked up to Lisa's corpse and pulled my knife out. You were shaking. I gave you a warm smile and said, "shh, shh… it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you… at least not like her." That's when you lunged at me and grabbed my arms. I dropped my knives as you gripped me up so I couldn't move. You spun me around, and wrapped your arms around me so tightly…
I could feel your racing heart beat against mine. It was all I ever wanted, just be held tightly in your arms with our hearts beating as one. I can still feel your breath on the back of my neck as I smelled that cheap cologne you had on mixing with the smell of your adrenaline throbbing out of your smooth hands pulsating my arms. I know you'll always remember that moment as Mrs Parsons finally broke down the door and I was being taken away by her and Principal Stark.
It's been six months since that day, but I still have dreams about your warm embrace, of your skin touching mine. I think about that day as I fall asleep in my cell. Solitary confinement has been a struggle, but I know when you write me back, it'll make all the lonely nights without you worth it.
Love,
Yours Truly.
❤
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