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PART 1

 

1. NEW YORK 

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Chapter 1

PART 1: NEW YORK

OLIVIA

 

I envisioned this moment a countless number of times in my head. The moment we’re at last liberated from the confined prison that’s known as compulsory education, where we finally feel for the first time in our lives that everything’s fallen into place. The moment where we finally get to embrace the mass of the world lifting off of our feeble shoulders, and allow ourselves to blossom into these impeccable human beings. According to our oh-so glorious education system, all it took was an official-looking document signed by the Principal, a royal red gown and cap to magically transform us from high school adolescents into professional collegiate young adults. The moment when we graduate is supposed to be this rush of excitement, a buzz of the feeling that we actually fucking made it.

So why do I still feel like I’m entrapped in this hellhole?

Like most private schools, Hilltop Academy strongly believes in exclusivity, for a lack of better term. I've gone to the same building since first grade everyday, making and breaking the closest relationships as well creating the worst enemies. Admittedly, this school has quite an infrastructure, but no matter how impressive a school may seem on the outside, the inside is always the same, regardless of the school’s social status. To be able to finally break away from this crowd, let ego of all the messy affiliations and to start the soundtrack that will run for the rest of our lives illuminates the third best feeling anyone could ever experience.

The first best feeling?

When you succeed in something that you worked so painstakingly hard for.

The second?

           When the person you fall hopelessly in love with tells you that they love you.

         However, I tend not to think about the second one as much. I never know if those words carry the value they’re worth.

I scanned the audience sitting on the bleachers and saw Grandma with a wide smile spread across her face. I figured she couldn’t see me since the bleachers were quite far away from where I was sitting, but nonetheless I returned the smile. I could feel a part of me scanning the crowd for Mom and Dad as I had been doing for the past four years but I have never found them. Yet, a part of me still keeps looking, hoping that I’ll get to see them one day.

           The sound of Principal Roberts snapped me out of my thoughts, as I realized he was finalizing his corny speech about how much we've grown as individuals and how he's so positive that we'll succeed in future endeavors. In other words, it's the typical "you kids were no different than any of the other previous classes but I'm obligated to say this every year" facade of a speech so there wasn't really any point in listening to it.  Kudos to him for actually tearing up this year.

    I took out my journal that I kept hidden within my cape because I knew there was something from this ceremony that needed documentation. Basically, my journal served as my companion to everywhere I went. Dad got it for me as a “welcome to high school” birthday present because he knew how much I loved writing. I’ve written in the same journal since then, but I don’t exactly use it in the typical way. Instead of the “Dear Journal” crap,  I use it as a way to vent out whatever goes on in my mind-the quirkiest thought, a possible idea for a story, a fascinating observation, undisclosed feelings since talking about my personal life to people wasn’t really my thing. My entire high school adolescent life was engraved within the pages of this notebook. It would probably make a valuable artifact if I ever become famous. I’m sure that’s what Dad thought too when he bought it for me.

    Underneath the last time I wrote it, which was yesterday, I printed today’s date and scribbled in the first thought that came into my mind.

June 24, 2015

I know I'm supposed to be feeling all sappy and emotional, but let's be real: graduation ceremonies are overrated as fuck.

Perhaps the "wow, finally, I’m actually done with high school" feeling hasn't struck me yet because we've been sitting in the same goddamn seat for the past three hours, speech after speech, diploma after diploma. We still haven't actually graduated; even with all of the proceedings, the rite of passage to our collegiate years hasn't begun. See, I have a habit of over-analyzing everything, which probably explains why I'm pretty decent at writing. The most fucked up people are the best writers.

“And now," he began. "Without further ado, I, on behalf of the rest of Hilltop Academy, proudly congratulate the class of 2015!”

In a matter of seconds, hundreds of caps filled the baby blue sky like stars that had just been born, only to float back to the ground to shower us in our own gratitude. Exhilarated cheers roared so loudly across the stadium that I almost went deaf. They were cries of triumph, of accomplishment—cries that translated to words we've been waiting to say since the first day.

We made it.

An excited chatter resonated in my ears as I saw parents with tears filling up in their eyes, rushing over to their children and embracing them as they would a toddler, clinging onto them tightly while they tried to squirm away as much as they could. I walked over to Grandma whose eyes were bleary with tears. As soon as her eyes met mine, she pulled me into one of her famous grandma hugs. The thing I love the most about hugs is how warm your heart feels. Your heart beats with theirs, and you feel connected with them, like you and them are one. It's a pretty damn good feeling.

"I'm so proud of you, Liv." She said as she pulled away to meet my eyes. "You looked beautiful out there. Mom and Dad are proud too."

I bit my lip and instantly felt a lump form in my throat as soon as those last words came out of her mouth. I appreciated Grandma for using the word "are", as if they never left and are still here. I mean, I like to think they're still here, but I know that no matter how many times I've dreamt, fantasized, or sometimes even vividly pictured, I can't bring them back.

And then it hit me that my parents couldn't see me graduate high school.

I felt a squeal abruptly pound it's way into my ears as two strong arms seized me from behind. Oddly enough, I wasn't even the slightest bit worried, as I knew exactly who it was.  I spun around and met eyes with my eccentric best friend, Freya, with her black curls erratically bouncing all over the place, her bronze skin glowing in the sunlight, and a glossy smile plastered across her face. She giggled as soon as her chocolate eyes met my hazels and I couldn't help but return the idiosyncrasy.

“Can you believe we actually graduated?!” She practically screamed in my ear.

“Honestly, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this day,” I said with a laugh.

“I’m just sad that everything’s just gonna change after summer’s over...UCLA and Columbia are, like, on opposite sides of the country. It’s gonna be so hard to even visit each other.”

UCLA has been my dream school ever since I was a little girl. I remember when Dad and I went to Los Angeles during that summer in fifth grade to visit the college. I still have the sweaters that we bought, including his. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve worn his sweater instead of mine even though his was twice my size. But the UCLA campus was captivating. Barely a teenager at the time, I still felt some sort of connection with the school. I can’t even express how many times I get sick of the cold weather here in Manhattan. Admittedly, I always found some sort of nirvana with the way the chill wind captured me no matter how many layers I wore, the way the white blankets tuck Central Park so gently and of course, with the sweaters and scarves. But I’ve always longed to be surrounded by palm trees and beaches for a while rather than this concrete monstrosity.

Grandma was probably more excited than I was over the fact that I got into UCLA . Thanks to the money my parents left me, I was able to pay for college without feeling guilty for my grandparents who work so strenuously just to keep a roof over our heads. So when I got that acceptance letter, it was pretty much a given that I was going to go. I had to.

“Don’t worry. I’ll visit often. Plus, how could you forget about our road trip?”

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “I almost forgot! That’s the end of next week! Just you, me and Logan, out in the open on a road trip all the way to California. It’s going to be amazing.

Yes, I know, A 3000 mile road trip sounds quite intimidating. But Logan’s gone on to so many with his family, many of which he’s driven, so I’d like to think that this wouldn't be too big of an issue. Plus, Logan seemed pretty confident about the whole driving issue, which is good enough for me. To make things better, Freya has family somewhere in Denver that could help us in case things got out of control, which was the only reason why Grandma was even reluctantly okay with it. It was quite a life-changing experience from what I’ve read; this get-away road trip is something I could really use right now. Freya, Logan and I have been planning this road trip for months, timing it out, mapping out the places we wanted to go to, the attractions we wanted to see, and sorting out the expenses which we all had sufficient money to cover from our savings from local jobs. It was the one thing I’ve been looking forward to for all of senior year; absorbing the scenery and the culture differences, inhaling the nature and exhaling the negatives, the fears, the worries. I would be free. If only I could allow that thought to permeate through my mind.

“At least that can be our last memory before college starts,” I said with a grin. “But don’t worry about that now. This trip is going to be so good for the both of us. I just know it.”

And with that, she pulled me into another one of her tight but heartwarming embraces, letting out that laugh of hers. I couldn’t help but feel terrible for leaving her behind. After all, she was my best friend. A part of me felt so callous, so egoistic, but I've tried to do the exact opposite for my whole life but have always ended up neglected or abandoned. Now that I'm done with high school, I don't have to be that person anymore.

             "Come on, let's go find Logan!" She exclaimed, and dragged my hand through the sea of students in black robes. Eventually, we found her boyfriend who was talking with a few other boys. Creeping up from behind him, she covered his eyes, a giggle escaping from her lips. Logan instantly turned around, knowing of course that it was her, and picked her up and swung her around like he always did whenever he saw her. They exchanged a kiss and I smiled. I did miss that feeling a little--the feeling when you're someone's one and only. That look that never leaves their face whenever they see you. A part of me's always going to reminisce, deceive my mind into thinking that there's still hope. As much as I didn't want to admit it, it's true. Yet, at the same time, I know I'm doing myself a favor by simply doing my own thing. If it's anything that high school taught me, it's that there's no point in wasting emotions on people. They all just leave in the end anyway.

          As soon as Logan saw me, he pulled me into a hug as well, exchanging congratulations as I did with everyone else. Despite my hidden, completely subconscious envy, I genuinely was happy for Freya and Logan. The fact that they've been in a relationship since freshman year, that they're going to be attending Columbia together, spending their lives together. There's no complications, no conflict...it's pure, simple love. A love I've always wanted, a love I've always dreamt about. A rare love that Freya and Logan are so lucky to have. Of course, life isn’t all about love. It's come to a point where such a concept has become so foreign, so ridiculous to even indulge in. After all, I did explore it and realized how complex of a state it was. It certainly wasn't something I wanted to dip my toes in again in college.

             "Olivia!"

       I spun around and made eye contact with the one person I did not want to associate with today. His chocolate pools were fixed on mine, his perfectly tousled chocolate brown hair was slightly gelled back and an apprehensive smile played on his lips, holding that camcorder of his as if it was glued onto his hands permanently. I could feel the blood pounding maniacally in my ears the way it did on the first day of freshman year, the electrifying tingles sprinting through my spine and my sudden inability to allow words to flow out of my lips. There were so many things I wanted to say to him,  constantly rehearsing my lines in my head like I was about to film a scene for a movie. But as soon as I faced him and his eyes that were flooded with remorse, pain, all masked by those chocolate-colored eyes of his, it was as if a sort of inhibitor prevented me from producing any sort of speech, going back to square one. He flashed that shy, nervous smile of his in my direction and to be polite I smiled back.

            "Hey," I waved, staring awkwardly into the camera’s lenses. Oh, bless my brain for allowing me to actually say a word this time.

           “Bro, are you seriously filming on graduation day?” Logan raised his eyebrow.

           “Hey, we already tossed the hats and everything. I want to document it afterwards at least!” Adam exclaimed, as he spun around with his camcorder and fixed it right back on me.

           “Uh so Olivia,” he said, with a clear of his throat. “How does it feel to finally be done with high school?”

           Blood was pounding ferociously in my ears as I stared at the lens of that stupid camcorder of his with antipathy. I had no intention of talking about my high school experiences for his stupid little home movies so I forced myself to let out a small but fatal smile. Every time I had encounters like this with Adam, a number of emotions always washed over me as if anger was this outraged wave that enjoyed crashing over the sand, swallowing people if it wanted to. Hurt, frustration, guilt, nostalgia...you name it.

           Well actually I take that back. Because everytime I see him, I feel anything but happy.

“Great,” I practically choked. Adam could instantly sense my indignation and tilted the camera towards Logan who simply stared at him in disbelief.

           “Anyway,” Logan said, after such an awkward pause. “So Zack Beckerman's throwing an after-grad party tonight at his apartment and he somehow managed to score the rooftop. His parents are going to be out of the house, so you can imagine how that’s going to get. You guys up for it or nah?”

           “Well, I’m up for it as long as Liv is...Liv?” Freya looked at me. Quite honestly, a good 75% of me did not want to go to this party. I was considering staying in my apartment with Grandma and baking cookies and brownies like we always did whenever we both had free time together. It was a newly established tradition after my parents and it was possibly one of the only things that even kept me sane. But I know that if Grandma found out about this party, she would probably kick me out of the house if it meant that I’d actually be socializing. Plus, it was the last time I’d get to see these so called reserved, well-behaved private school kids transform into the rambunctious, scandalous “adults” that I knew always lurked inside of them. So despite the possible dangers I could be getting myself into, this was probably a party actually worth going to.

           “Uh, yeah, count me in,” I said with a shrug.

           “Well? Are you up for it?” Logan eyed Adam.

           “A party where a bunch of high school seniors get drunk and engage in provocative behavior? Definitely worth documenting.” Adam said in a serious tone with his camcorder still filming us. I rolled my eyes and with a wave goodbye to Freya and Logan, I ran back to find my grandma who was talking to Freya’s parents. After greeting Freya’s parents and accepting their congratulations, my grandma and I walked hand in hand out of the emotional crowd of jubilant teenagers and sentimental parents. I saw the soft blue sky graciously blend in with the gentle strokes of pink and orange that seemed to caress the clouds. The sun’s rays began to beam more prominently on the Manhattan sidewalks and on Hilltop Academy.  I took one last long look at the building I’ve gone to for my entire life. My eyes caught sight of the entrance of the school, and I could almost picture myself there, frolicking around with my disney princess backpack and lunchbox, each dainty little hand of mine clutching onto my mom and dad’s. Everything reminded me of them. Everything.

I know I’m going to be constantly asked what I learned from high school by adults for the next couple of weeks and I’ll tell them this: If I purposely try to remember something, it only stays in my brain for a limited amount of time. Like if I’m memorizing vocabulary terms for a test, or struggling to ace that geography quiz. But it’s the memories that engrave in my heart, the ones that hurt me, the ones that make me happy that I keep forever, no matter how hard I try to suppress them. They’re locked away in my own personal chest, the key right within my grasp. For some reason, I like to constantly open it again and again, so I’m certain that I’ll never forget the past.

It’s funny how infatuated I am with a past I’ve been trying to forget.


 

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Chapter 2

ADAM

           I feel like mistakes have a cruel way of defining us. They always tell us that we learn from our mistakes and that our flaws make us who we are or some cliche shit like that. Don’t get me wrong; I understand what they mean and I agree with it to a certain extent. But how are we supposed to learn and move on from our wrongdoings when we’re constantly reminded of them? It’s like these mistakes that I commit automatically transform into ghosts, enjoying their omnipresence that I couldn’t run away from no matter how many times I apologized, how many times I’ve regretted.

           You can learn from them. You can be a better person. But they never go away and I am still unable to comprehend why this has to be the case.

I stared at the mirror in my room and fixed my tie because I remembered how that was Dad’s biggest pet peeve. I knew a lot about my dad. At least I thought I did. I guess one thing I didn’t seem to understand was his penchant for mysteries.

When I was at the ceremony and I saw all these dads hugging their sons and kissing their daughters, I couldn’t help but allow envy to consume me in my entirety. As much as I tried to enjoy today and force myself into thinking about NYU in the fall and that blissful liberation, I couldn’t help but feel like crap when I only saw my mom and grandparents show up. It sucks when you can’t find answers to questions that have been angrily lingering in your mind for years.

Why did he leave? What did my mom do? Why didn’t he warn us?

Why didn’t he say goodbye?

A part of me just felt like I wasn’t ever going to get those answers. But  I guess that’s how life goes--people come and go, and unfortunately those “people” included family members. I’m pretty good at concealing my feelings anyway, so I put up a pretty good show today at graduation.

My focus shifted towards my Canon, which was the only thing that was truly mine, the only thing that I could use to create my own endings. In a matter of seconds, I found myself constantly replaying the footage from graduation today, wondering where my mistake was and why this ghost had to haunt me the most. I saw the way she stared into the camera in such a boorish manner, struggling to get out of the shot as much as she could. It’s been four years and her ignorance towards me still makes me feel like crap and I don’t know why.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I saw that it was no other than Logan’s name that shows up on the Caller ID. He’s literally the only person who still uses phones to call so it’s not surprising when I actually get a phone call from my cell phone.

“Yes?” I said as I clicked the “Talk” button.

“So you’re coming right?”

“To what?”

“Dude the party. Remember I asked you, Olivia and Freya literally just a few hours ago.”

I mentally groaned as I did recall his informal invitation and my out-of-focus “yes” as I was trying to focus on a certain group of kids who were doing some sort of pose that I found amusing. While I do like to consider myself somewhat of a gregarious kid, I don’t typically enjoy affiliating myself with girls in skimpy outfits and guys that either get drunk or high as hell. You’d think private school kids are the most decent when it’s quite literally the opposite. Society’s just one big satire, to be honest.

“Yeah sorry man but I’m probably gonna take a rain check.”

“What?! Why?” He screamed.
    “I’m seriously just not feeling it.”

“But this’ll be the last chance I see you before I go on that road trip with Freya and Olivia.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated over the fact that he was going on a two week road trip with my ex-girlfriend. I mean, he did invite me, but I really was not in the mood to spend two weeks with a girl that hated my guts, and her best friend who also hated my guts. Plus, I didn’t want him to feel obligated to me when he clearly wanted to spend more time with Freya. If I couldn’t get a shot at “love”, might as well be him, right?

“Sorry,” he said after the pause. “I shouldn’t have said her name.”

“Dude, it’s okay,” I laughed it off. “That was a long time go. I’m over it.”

“No you’re not.”

“Whatever, okay? You’re leaving next Friday, I have plenty of time to hang out with you before you leave on your honeymoon featuring Olivia as the third wheeler.”  

“So let’s hang out at the party! Dude, this is going to be the epitome of after-grad parties. It’s on his rooftop which is like huge and has the best view of the city. You said it yourself, it’s a perfect filming opportunity and plus, you really need a girlfriend.”

“Logan, a girlfriend is not really on my priorities list right now.” I said in slight irritation.

“He said as he stared at videos of his ex.”

I really hated how he knew me so well.

Well, if it’s anything that high school taught me, it’s to never date your best friend because a) there’s a 99% chance it’s going to end brutally and b) not only will you lose them as a girlfriend, but as a best friend as well. And I’m not sure which hurt more but I do know that I suddenly started to miss all those times she used to hoodie me and steal my camcorder just so she could spam my memory card with her videos.  

Yep. Good times.

“Dude, seriously through. You’re like a lost puppy and it’s depressing as hell. You  seriously need to get laid.”

“Right. Says the guy who was president of the chess club, has dated the same girl since middle school and has never even had sex before.” I laughed.

“Touche,” He replied after a short pause. “Okay but seriously. Come on, it’s the last party of the year and we’re never going to see these assholes again. Might as well see them at their worst now. I wanna leave this school with a ‘bang’, you know?”

“Then why don’t you just tweet something insensitive? It seems to rile up people nowadays. Hey, maybe you could even be a trending topic!”

“Adam.”

Before I could respond, I heard someone coming up the stairs and assumed that it was most probably my mother.

“Hey, I’m going to call you back.” I said and not even waiting for his response, I hung up and saw mom walk in the room with a suitcase sitting at the entrance. She was probably going on one of those “business” trips of hers again (or what I like to call an excuse to get away from me and my aversion towards her). Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a bun and she wore her new Versace suit, despite the countless she already had, topping it off with Chanel accessories. God, it’s pretty ridiculous how I know the names of these designers. A guy like me should only know the best sports brands and winning teams. But no. I just deal with a materialistic, pretentious woman who I cannot even revere enough to call my mother. At this point, all I can say is that I want nothing to do with her after I move into college.

“Why aren’t you out of your suit?” Mom attempted to start a conversation.

“I was just going to get out of it until you showed up,” I snapped.

“Adam, what’s with this back and forth?” She asked. “Ever since what happened four years ago, there’ll be one day when you absolutely despise me, and another where you’ll act completely normal. And today would be one of those ‘absolutely despise me’ days, I presume?”

“Is that why you’re leaving?”

She let out a sigh of disbelief and shook her head in surrender. “I have to go to San Francisco for the week. There’s something that I need to take care of at the M Industries headquarters over there. Management issues, of course. So I need to pick up the speed again.”

    Oh, let’s not forget that my mom’s the CEO of this multimillion corporation or whatever. How else could she afford the designer suits and accessories?

    “Have fun.”

    “Adam, come on. This is the first day to the rest of your life. Can’t you at least try to be a little nice to me today?”

    I dropped the camcorder back on the bed and stared at her, the ignorance so evident in her green eyes. She stared at the resentment lurking in mine and gave me this look of melancholy. At least, she tried to act sad. I could see right through it.

    “This is about dad, isn’t it?”

    “No. Just forget it. Have fun on your trip.”

    “Honey, you need to understand,” She said as she approached me. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I don’t know why dad left. I know it must’ve made you feel upset to not see your dad today, but you have to believe me when I say I just don’t know. Grandma and grandpa was there, and so was I. We all love you so much. He didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

    “Then why are you leaving me today?” I retorted, instantly feeling like an asshole for being so hostile towards her.

    “It’s business matters. I have to. I’m so sorry. It’ll only be a few days, and when I come back we can celebrate together. Okay?”

“Whatever. Can you please leave so I can change?”

Understanding the message I was sending her indirectly, she kissed my forehead, bid goodbye and left the room, dragging her Louis Vuitton suitcase behind her. A number of emotions were racing through me, emotions that I couldn’t even apprehend why I was enduring. Anger, remorse, sorrow, all combining together to drown me in my own ambiguity. Yet, one thing that I knew for sure was that I needed to get the fuck out of this house. So I found my phone and phoned Logan.

“Look who finally decided to return my call?” He began. “What do you need, dude?”

“I’m picking you up at 7. We’re going to that party even if it’s the worst experience of my life.”

“YES, THANK YOU!” He screamed in delight. “I knew you’d turn around! But you need to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I kinda lied earlier. Don’t bring your camcorder. Someone’s either going to break it or puke on it.”

                    ***

    “Holy shit.

    I thought I had already prepared myself for the most heinous circumstances that I could possibly witness, but of course, that just didn’t seem to be enough.

    I walked in and was instantly confounded by the haze that set before my eyes. Club music instantly deafened my ears to the point where I could not even identify it (Turn Down For What? How surprising). The smell of basically all assortments of alcohol and drugs blended together into this one toxic scent that seemed to devour all the oxygen. There were couples (at least I’m going to assume they’re couples) swallowing each other whole basically every corner I turned, while the rest continued to down their cups of booze and struggle to hold their balance as they tried to dance to the song. Lanterns and christmas lights were scattered around the area of the rooftop, attempting to create a pleasant ambiance--keyword, attempting. I noticed that about our entire class was here, their graduation caps and gowns off, their diplomas no longer being fidgeted with, and their strained smiles vanished into thin air. It was as if the ceremony didn’t even take place--as if this whole time, all that talk about “growing up” and “going to college to further education” seemed to have been code for “I just wanna get drunk and hook up with people and not give a shit about life”.

Basically, it was your typical after-grad party.

My focus shifted towards Logan’s facial expression which was engulfed with awe as he took a look around the scandalous environment. While Logan was a pretty cool kid, he unfortunately was still labeled as a nerd by many due to his active membership in the chess club, and unfortunately due to his Asian ethnicity. It frustrated me on many occasions; just because you were in the chess club, doesn’t mean you should be labeled as an automatic nerd. And why should someone’s ethnicity qualify them as a brainiac? And why should someone’s intelligence be mocked by something as low as name calling? If it’s anything I won’t understand, it’s this shitty society.

My eyes caught attention to the city, the rooftop view absolutely breathtaking with specks of yellow and orange and the occasional spots of blue and red, scattered amongst the buildings and aiding the moon to illuminate the night sky. The blurred lights seemed to serve as it’s own skyline, combining into one stable setting. I wanted to hear the faint traffic noises integrate with the sound of the night gusts of wind and to stay in this blissful feeling of solitude, but of course, I was awaken by Logan’s excited chatter.

“Okay, this party is seriously the best party I’ve ever been to.”

“Logan, we just got here.”

“Yeah but I already know it’s going to be great!” Logan exclaimed. “I’m gonna go  find Freya...you cool with being on your own?”

I gave him a look of slight irritation. “Dude, chill. I have friends. I’ll find someone. Meanwhile, don’t go and try out weed or alcohol please. I am not in the mood to assist you today with your lack of self-control and stupidity, if I might add.”

A wave of guilt consumed me whole as soon as those words came out and I could tell those words certainly sent daggers to Logan as well based on how his giddy excitement was diminished with disappointment. I muttered a curse under my breath, a strong sense of resentment towards myself blossoming right where it should. I seemed to have an unintentional predilection for shoving people out of my life, locking myself in my own mind despite how suffocating and intoxicating it has been for me. The thought of my mind controlling myself was quite a frightening thought, a powerless thought in fact. Sometimes I forget that I’m human.

“Hey,” I said after an eventful silence (well, accompanied by GDFR  blaring from the speakers, which certainly did not help in this emotionally aggravated situation).  “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry--”

“No,” he stopped me. “You’re right. Don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve put up with your shit for the last four years anyway.”

“Logan--”

“I’m going to look for Freya. See you around. I can handle myself so don’t bother to check up on me.” And with that, he stormed off, leaving me to stand alone in the midst of a sea of upcoming bewildered, rambunctious college freshmen. A part of me wanted to punch a wall so harshly that I would break my own fingers in the process and would be completely fine with it. I felt as if my mind was wrestling with these conflicts, battered and bruised, unable to escape the cage that was already splattered with stains of apathy. A part of me refuses to escape from this cage that I seemed to have built from the remnants of the humanity left inside me. I was permanently trapped in my own thoughts and, at this point, I was willing to go to any lengths to get rid of this recurring feeling that was constantly inside me. It was that feeling when your heart sunk in a puddle of helplessness and sadness, with clouds of bitterness incessantly raining on your incredibly amusing parade. That feeling when you know you screwed up and regret would instantly paralyze your body.

So I grabbed hold of a bottle of beer and consumed half of it in a matter of seconds, the beverage immediately elating me from my mind and thoughts. The alcohol slightly burned my throat and I could no longer feel my brain feeling the need to explode at any given moment. I could no longer feel anything and I was infatuated with it. I could already see black spots flicker in my vision, the images distorting here and there at times but I was still able to maintain my stability.  For now, at least.

But that also when when I saw Olivia Gray almost get raped.

My motor skills were still intact for me to react to the situation and to make sense of my surroundings. Thankfully, I didn’t drink enough to be completely intoxicated. I could tell by the way Olivia was standing that she was clearly drunk, probably ten times worse than I was at the moment. There was a guy right in front of her, a little too close to her if I may add, who had basically pinned her against a wall, slowly and slyly trying to get the straps of her dress off. There were a few other guys surrounding her, and nobody else noticed, doing their own thing as usual. I could see Olivia attempting to push his hand away and whimpering what seemed like “stop it” or “leave me alone” but her intoxicated stage inhibited her from understanding what was actually going on. A sense of panic and not to mention bafflement swept over me at the entire situation.

So that was when I acted on impulse and things went from bad to worse. If that was even possible for the day I’d been having.

I marched over to the guy who I slowly came to recognize was none other than Zack himself, the host of his own party. I shoved his hand away from her shoulders that were practically strapless at this point and I noticed she was holding her head in her hands in pure bafflement, like the world was in ruins everywhere around her and inside of her. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw me, and I made eye contact with Zack, whose bloodshot eyes looked even angrier.

“What the hell was that?” He barked in my direction. The music instantly stopped and I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, questioning, judging, wondering. The entire rooftop transformed from a deafening club-like environment to a movie theatre, all eyes widened at the screen, which in this case was me and Zack. However, I wasn’t afraid. At least, my brain felt too numb to endure anxiety. So like the intelligent person I am, I took a step closer to him until our faces were inches apart, sending daggers towards each other’s eyes.

“Leave her alone,” I said. “Did you not learn anything from high school?”

“Relax. She’s drunk and clueless.” He said with insensitivity dripping from his words. “Plus who are you, anyway? Her boyfriend?”

I was. Until I fucked things up like I always did.

“No, but I do have enough common sense to see that taking advantage of a girl when she’s drunk is completely wrong.”

“It’s her fault for getting drunk. The bitch was asking for it.”

    And with that, my arm instantly swung and my knuckles collided with his jaw, causing him to stumble backward. Pain immediately shot up my hand, and that’s when I realized what I had just gotten myself to.

Shit.

His eyes dilated in disbelief as he held his hand against his jaw, wincing slightly from the pain. He made eye contact with me, and it didn’t take much for me to understand that he was already planning a counterattack. He charged in my direction and swung another arm until I ducked and pushed him to the ground. I was ready to charge in his direction and seize him on the ground to finish him off for good (well not for good. Just punch him enough times so he would learn his lesson). I thought I’d been doing pretty well for someone who has never gotten into a fight before until I felt two pairs of robust arms seize me from behind, restricting me from making any movement. With a maniacal grin, Zack sprung up and took a swung at my jaw, and I felt the excruciating pain spread across my entire face and something wet flow down my chin. From Zack’s knuckles, I could tell it was blood. He then aimed for my stomach and the black spots were more permanent in my vision. I had been under this predisposition that alcohol somehow numbed the pain, but it seemed to have made it all the more worse.

But I definitely wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

My legs still liberated, I jabbed the heel of my foot against their shins which caused the boys to release me from their rigid grasp and I shoved Zack to the ground, climbing on top of him so he felt as restricted as I did. My vision was so distorted that I couldn’t even see if I was even punching him in the face or if I was punching the floor.

“Adam! Zack! Cut it OUT!”

And before I knew it, someone had picked me up and pulled me away from Zack. I turned around to see that it was Logan, seizing my arms so I wouldn’t go back and attack him. Someone had done the same to Zack and all I saw was his menacing eyes glaring at me with pure distaste. I finally registered the amount of pain my entire body had been enduring and saw blood dripping from my knuckles. Logan gave me that “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” look, and I noticed everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, some people totally in awe, while others completely appalled. My eyes fell on Olivia, who gave me a different look, a look that was unique from the rest of the kids. Her eyes may have been wide in shock but there was something lurking in those hazel pools of hers (besides tears) and it was pain. Some sort of emotional pain that’s eating her up alive, that’s driving her insane.. I hastily shuffled my way out of Logan’s grasp and rushed over to Olivia, whose eyes were bloodshot with tears.

“Are you okay?” I whispered in her ear, and I saw her shake her head as she fixed her crossed shoulders against her chest. I noticed the straps of her dress still fallen off her shoulders, so I adjusted them back on and took off my thin sweater to wrap around her. I could hear her subtle chokes as she tried to keep from crying as much as she could. The last time I’d seen her this vulnerable, this heartbroken was that terrible day in freshman year at our famous Central Park location. I remembered it so vividly - a rainy Wednesday afternoon, the murky weather making an oh-so pleasant complementary to our fight, and let’s not forget the words that were exchanged. Those words I often mistake for punches, kicks, slaps. Those words that probably hurt more than this fight did.

But that memory’s for another time.

“Sh, it’s okay,” I said in her ear as I held her shoulders gently.“I’m going to take you home, it’s fine. Nothing happened. You’re okay.”

So, with a small nod coming from her, I held her shoulders and walked her out of the door. I made eye contact with Zack on the way and shot him a cold stare. He glared in return, and with that, we walked out of the most eventful party of Hilltop Academy.

I guess I got to leave high school with a bang after all.

 
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