I Know How You Feel

The next day was a Friday. I was seriously dreading the weekend. Sam was hard at work on our dresses for the dance next weekend and she still hadn’t talked to me. All of that kind of put me in an agitated mood. That probably helped this situation occur. Misty, was looking over my pictures with extreme bias and considering she hated me that wasn’t a good thing. And guess who was the lucky person that had to stay inside to listen to the arrogant thoughts of a teenage self-professed queen bee? You guessed it, me.

Well, our supervisor was there too but she couldn’t read Misty’s thoughts. Only a smirk was visible to the lucky woman.

Misty snorted and it set off another wave of insults in her mind. I tried not to listen but curiosity got the best of me.

“You’d think a kindergartener took this picture. This is so out of focus. Next. Ugh, what is this? It’s so posed and cheesy. Everything about it is fake.”

Anger bubbled beneath my skin. It was a picture of Tyler and I. Sam must have taken it without us looking. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

“Everyone knows they were just dating to cover up each other’s gayness. Sam and Olivia are lesbian lovers and Tyler and that weird kid.”

I let my cheeks burn. I knew what word was coming next. I’d heard her say it before when talking about Wyatt. I really didn’t know what it meant, but the way she said it, it sounded like a really bad word.

“Wyatt. Right Wyatt, the fag. The big faggoty fag. And Tyler’s a fag too. That’s the only way he’d dated Olivia the lesbian because he wanted to cover his own faggy ass.”

And with that my anger boiled over and my brain did something; something that probably wouldn’t have happened if I was truly in control of my anger. My hands became tightly balled fists and I continued to stare at Misty. She innocently clicked through more pictures unaware of her impending doom.

“Ah,” Misty started with a small yell, “Ahhhh, Ow.” And then it lead to a blood curdling scream that still haunts me.

She fell out of her chair and started writhing on the floor. Her hands her grabbing her head like she was trying to put out a fire.

“Misty!” the supervisor yelled and ran to her.

“Make it stop. Make it stop!” she cried between screams.

“Olivia, get the nurse,” the woman said, her voice tainted with fear.

My eyes narrowed and the screams grew louder. Misty looked up at me her eyes wide with fear.

“Olivia!” the woman screamed.

I snapped out of it, looked away from Misty, down at my clenched fists and ran. Faster than I thought I could, I ran down the stairs and into the nurse’s office. I burst in the door. Ms. Gerd broke off whatever she was saying and looked up. Sam stopped scooping ice out of the freezer mid-scoop.

I gasped for breath, “Misty, in room two ten is—,” I caught my breath. “She’s hurt. She just fell out of her chair and started screaming.”

“I’m on it,” Ms. Gerd grabbed the big emergency kit and went out the door. Sam finished making an ice pack for a student with a sprained wrist. As soon as the student left I broke down.

Huge sobs ripped from my body. What had I done?

“Olivia?” Sam called in a low voice. I looked up at her and she saw the fear in my eyes.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

“You were right,” I croaked and started crying again.

“What do you mean?” she asked like she was talking to a child. It would have irritated me if, I hadn’t been completely out of my mind.

“I can’t control my anger. I hurt her Sam. I really did,” I whispered. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“What happened?” she asked again.

My mouth tried to form words but they wouldn’t come out. Sam handed me a tissue and I tried to calm down. Soon the story was pouring out.

“She was thinking stuff, things that if she said them aloud they probably wouldn’t have been as bad. But she was thinking it like a regular thought pattern. Making fun of me and you and then she started calling Wyatt a really bad name,” I paused knowing I couldn’t say it out loud.

“And you got mad?”

“Really mad. I was furious. More mad than I ever have been. And then it happened,” I swallowed and more tears fell onto the carpeted floor.

“What did you do?”

“I don’t know!” I squeaked. “She was just sitting there with a smirk on her face, I start glaring at her and oozing hatred and bam. She’s on the floor like her head was in a volcano,” my voice moved up and down uncontrollably. I was starting to become hysterical again.

“Wow,” was all Sam said.

“And you know what the worst part is?” I whispered.

“What?”

“I wanted to hurt her more, like kill her and I could have, I felt it,” I said, my voice dark.

I burst into tears and Sam soon figured out I wasn’t crying for Misty. I was crying because I was scared. I was scared of myself. Scared of the hatred that easily bubbled up inside of me. I wasn’t in control of anything. Not my emotions, or my so-called gift.

“But what if she is dead? Could Olivia really have killed her? Is my best friend a murderer?” Sam thought while I continued to bawl hopelessly.

My mother came to pick me up after Ms. Gerd couldn’t get me to calm down. I cried all the way to the car not caring who stared at me. My mom pushed me into the front seat and put my buckle on. I sat there taking a pause. My fingers were tingling from hyperventilating. My mom kept looking over at me while she was driving, waiting for me to pass out. When I didn’t her thoughts turned to taking me to the hospital. I was suddenly silent. I couldn’t go to the hospital. By now they would be able to tell I was crazy and they’d send me away to get tested. And then they would know.

They couldn’t know.

I got out of the car when we made it home. Without saying a word to anyone I walked upstairs and into my room. I stared at the wall and soon found myself wailing again. I couldn’t stop. Even when the sliver left of my sane mind warned me about the hospital I ignored it and continued to cry until I was numb. I walked into my bathroom and drank from the sink. I looked up at the mirror and stared at myself. My green irises looked even more brilliant in contrast to my red swollen eyes. My hair was a mess and my clothing crumpled and tear-stained. I looked away.

I could have killed her. Misty’s mind was mine to obliterate.

And then I was bawling again.