My Eyes On You

Hatred

Brendan eyed her up and down. Without much hesitation, he said, “No… of course not. Would I touch that?”

Leah shivered. Her friends tugged on her arm. “Let‟s go, Leah. He‟s just a jerk. Forget him, let‟s just go.” She wanted to confront him. She wanted to run to him, smack him hard on the jaw, and show everyone just what she thought of him. But she stopped herself. He hadn‟t told anyone that he‟d slept with her—that was obvious.

She caught his gaze one last time. She was surprised by what she saw: no fear, no guilt, no embarrassment. She was being made fun of like nothing had happened, and Brendan was taunting her like everything was the same. She looked at the faces of the kids, and they were jeering; obviously agreeing with the nasty words the boys had been saying.

She hated this school; she always had.She had never fit in the way she had wanted, and even though she had her small group of friends, she felt like an outsider. But for the first time ever, she didn‟t care.******

Two years passed. She watched the world through narrowed eyes and experienced life through blunted sensations. Not once after that day did Brendan ever again acknowledge her.

She grew older, she grew taller, and she grew more curvaceous. As time went on, she grew silent. A thick fog of desolation and quiet anxiety seemed to surround her wherever she went, and this baffled her friends. None of them could figure her out, and no matter what would happen, she wouldn‟t tell anyone what happened to her at the party that night.

She spoke less, and she chose her words more carefully. She observed life as closely as she could, but always with the sense that everything was muted, dulled. It was as though she were a bipolar depressed patient suddenly on Lithium. And every time she chose not to speak, but rather to hold it in and ponder it in her heart, the dark feelings would fester and breed within her.

Every time she passed up the chance to defend herself, she guaranteed with more certainty that the next time, she

would do the same.At the start of her freshman year of high school, she

sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall.

She was dressed in a simple sleeveless, white sundress too chilly for the fall temperatures, a pair of brown, leather t-strap sandals, and the assortment of jewelry that her grandmother had left her before she had passed away. She wore her hair down, where it fell lifelessly past her pale shoulders, and her lips were painted blood red, matted thickly with cheap lipstick bought from the drugstore. She wore too much make-up for a fourteen-year-old, her deep, green eyes dark with liner and mascara, her bony cheeks white with foundation and powder.

She was still except for the uncontrollably nervous bouncing of her right knee, which seemed to move completely independently of her mind. She transferred her gaze to the window, whose drapes were fully open, and saw that it was still dark. The stars shined serenely in a black, tumultuous sky. Like the anxiety within her, the sky was ready to come alive, emptying itself of its built-up tension.

The morning was new, and the sun had not yet appeared on the rocky horizon of Early Winter. The air was cool and the boughs of the sycamore trees outside were gently scratching against the glass of the window. In her hands was the g*n.

Leah rose to her feet and strod across the room. The house was completely silent. There was not even a creak or a groan from one of her parents stirring.

She looked at the object in her arms and exhaled slowly.

It was heavy as she weighed it in her hands. It had been expensive: all her allowance savings had gone into its purchase. She had been skipping lunch at school for months in order to save up for the one-hundred dollars it had cost. Devon wasn‟t going to accept any money, but Leah had insisted. He was an eighteen-year-old senior in high school, and he would do anything for her, anything at all: even buy her a g*n.

She caressed her bony fingers along its sleek body and sighed. While staring off into space, her jaw set in fierce determination, she held it as though it were a kitten, stroking its sleek body and cradling it tenderly in her arms. It was small. All that money for a little bit of metal, she thought. With her eyes pressed shut, she grasped the object even tighter and held it possessively in

her hands.

Her parents were home. If only they knew what their daughter was doing right now, she thought. If only they

knew what she was planning…

What, only days earlier, was only one of her many fantasies.

But now it was a real possibility. All she had to do was slip it into her backpack, bring it to his house, and put the g*n to the bastard‟s head. Soon, all her troubles

would be over. Forever. She could barely contain her excitement as thoughts

tumbled through her mind. With trembling fingers, she re- wrapped the silver g*n in a silk cloth and carefully re-

stowed it in its hiding place: a back corner of her closet that was hidden nicely behind a stack of clean sweaters.

Climbing back to her bed, she pulled her covers over her, settling into the warmth. Time passed. From downstairs, she began to hear the clamor of her parents making themselves breakfast and getting ready for the day. She smelled the pungent odor of coffee and the sweetness of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. She pulled on some cold jeans and a shirt. Her dirty hair hung limply past her shoulders.