It’s June and I want to kill myself.
Clarice is gone. It took me a long time to figure out why. I think that’s why it hurts so much.
Her roommates were outside the house when I got there. I tried my best to ignore them, and just walk by. I saw one of them had my backpack under her chair, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I’d grab it later. I tried to brush past them, I really tried.
When I went to open the door, it was locked. I pulled it a few more times. Clarice had promised she’d leave it unlocked whenever I was out. She promised. I really didn’t want to talk to her roommates.
I took a deep breath. Something was really wrong. I could hear the roommates whispering. They were talking about me and giggling. I could feel tears coming on, but I put pressure on my eyelids so it just looked like I had a headache. I turned around and walked back to them. I asked if they could unlock the door as calmly and casually as I could, like I didn’t notice the horrible feeling in my gut.
They said she didn’t want to see me. The one with my bag practically hurled it at me. They said she was done being a dyke, and I should move on too. I felt a million things at once, but the loudest one was anger at them. They were messing with me. They had to be. They had always been cunts, and now they were taking it too far, telling me my Clarice didn’t want me. I hissed at them that she would never do that. And they fucking laughed. They looked me in the eyes and they laughed.
I made a quick motion towards them to make the bitches jump, but instead picked up a piece of gravel from under their feet and threw it at Clarice’s window. They laughed even harder. I could feel the tears escaping my eyes now. I screamed Clarice’s name and kept throwing rocks up at the glass. I hoped it would break. After far too long, her face appeared in the window. It was red, covered in tears. She opened the window long enough to scream at me. She told me to get lost and slammed it shut again.
People always say words can’t hurt you, but her voice knocked the wind out of me. I fell on my ass, unable to think. Everything shut down.
The first thing I remember after that was her roommates laughing at me. Their cackling quickly filled my head and wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t stop. I snapped.
The police said it was the worst assault they’d seen on campus in a few years. They said it figures that I didn’t even really go there. They told me they’d have to beef up security to keep riffraff like me out. They were going to say something else, but they changed it to riffraff right before they said it. I just didn’t talk for most of the investigation.
For reasons I’ll never understand, I got out of there with just a fine and restraining order. It wasn’t until I was out of the police station that I even realised I could’ve gone to prison. I still wonder if that would’ve been better.
Aunt Tiffany paid my bail. She thought it was for textbooks. I promised her I’d pay her back once I got my degree. She didn’t believe me, which is good.