I scream, You Scream

A scream tears from my throat, and I shoot up into a sitting position. The air is cold against my sweaty skin, and I frantically search my surroundings. My chest heaves as I struggle to control my breathing. It was just a nightmare, one that will plague my mind forever. I cry, the image of Mrs. Nolt imprinted into my brain. Her corpse sitting peacefully on the church pew. I run my hand through my brown hair, pulling at it as tears stream down my face. 

Around this time, grandma would have come in with some chamomile tea and a piece of chocolate. She's not here this time, having gone out with a friend to the casino in the city.

It was just a nightmare. However, the thought doesn't calm my racing heart and shaking hands. I flip on the light switch, chasing away the dark shadows that taunt me, but it doesn't do anything about the ones inside my head. I sit back down on my bed and force myself to take a deep breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

I count all the way to ten until I hear loud banging coming from downstairs. My heart picks up speed again, and the image of my dad with a knife in his hand haunts me. No, I clutch my nightshirt; a thin, spaghetti strap tank top. It isn't him, he's in police custody. He's locked up behind bars until his trial, there's no way that's him at the door. 

What if...? 

The thought lingers. The knocking gets louder, and I scramble up to race down stairs. I run into the kitchen and grab a knife to protect myself. When I walk into the living room, the sound of the banging gets louder. I glance at the clock, five fifteen am. 

I suck in a breath, hands shaking against the doorknob. All I can picture is him on the other side, dryed blood on his skin, and his white button up shirt stained with the life of his victims. His innocent victims.

I crack the door open, holding the knife behind my back, ready to strike if I need to. My eyes widen when I see a scowling and sleep deprived Stone on the other side. He's shirtless, the tattoos on his toned skin are on full display. Both his muscled arms have sleeves, stretching out over his collar bones and hard pecs. His grey sweatpants ride low, and I swallow thickly at the sight of his v-line. 

"Stop the fuckin' screamin'. Your neighbors are trying to sleep," he growls out at me, voice thick after having just woken up, thanks to me. My head snaps up to his face, mouth opening, but only a small squeak escapes. His eyes are narrowed on me, dark circles visible. How long have I been screaming? 

I close my mouth and nod once. "S-sorry," I mutter. At least he isn't here to douse me in red paint. He scoffs at me, hands clenching at his sides, and I wonder if he wants to yell at me some more. 

Please don't. 

He glares at me, then turns and marches his way back to his house. I close the door and lean against it, dropping the knife onto the floor like it'll burn me. It makes me feel like him, and I tell myself that I'm not. 

That I only grabbed the knife because I might have needed to defend myself. I swallow and slide to the floor. Tears run down my cheeks, and I hold my head in my hands as ruthless images haunt me. 

Why did grandma have to leave? She's not here to hold me and wipe away my sorrows. I'll always have this heavy darkness in my heart, and it will eat away everything I have in me.

***

Henry was right about the paint staining. My face, neck, and hands are still tinted red. I take another shower, scrubbing and scrubbing at my skin, hoping it’ll go away. By the time I step out, my skin is raw and sore. However, the red tint didn't fade, not even a little bit.

Even my full coverage foundation doesn’t cover it up. It looks like a horrendous and permanent blush. I debate skipping today, just staying in and continuing to wallow in my self pity, but then would grandma get mad if I skip? I've never done it before.

I pull on a hoodie, I would rather be hot and sweaty than feel so exposed with my red tinted skin. With a deep breath, I step out of the front door, feigning whatever bravery I think I have left.

After locking the door I walk over to my car, keys in hand. Like Stone's rusty truck, my car doesn't fare any better. The rust stained, green dune buggy sticks out with grandma's house behind it. Maybe if I had taken it yesterday, I never would've ran into Stone, Haeden, Kingston, and Ivy at the back of the school. 

My face burns at the memory. Sure the whole school witnessed it happen, but I don't care about the whole school. The whole school didn't make me feel weird.

A screech down the street reaches my ears, and I look over. A black jeep rolls down the street, windows rolled down. I cringe when I see Kensey and her posse, Maribel, Stacy, and Lupe laughing inside. Lupe sticks her head out, black shiny hair pulled back into a ponytail. I’m guessing so the wind won't mess it up too much. 

My eyes widen when she launches something at me. I scream as eggs splatter against me, my car, and the driveway. Yolk gets into my hair, staining my clothes and dripping into my shoes. 

“Die, bitch!” Maribel shouts, as they speed off. I stare after them, eyes wide in surprise and the taste of raw egg in my mouth. A snort comes from next door, and I turn to see Stone standing on his front porch, eyes glued to my body. 

Oh god, was he there the entire time? He definitely saw the entire thing. First I wake him up with my nightmare screams, and now he witnesses this.

My tears spill over. With shaking hands I turn back towards the door and attempt to open it. The keys fall, and I quickly drop down to grab them. The key keeps missing the hole, and I know now that if my skin wasn't already stained red, it would be flushing with embarrassment. 

A sob escapes me.

Why does this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t my dad be normal?

When I get inside I slam the door and slide down against it. The only bright side I can see is that grandma isn’t here to see me. To see how pathetic I am.

I wipe my tears and trudge up the stairs. I can’t go to school like this. I take another shower, not in the least caring that I’ll be late or that the school will send an automatic voicemail to grandma. I can afford one late pass.

After redressing in some jeans and a long sleeve blue shirt, I leave the house.