Left to my Own Little World [Micah]
Feb 14, 2012 23:49:11 GMT -5
Post by Cest on Feb 14, 2012 23:49:11 GMT -5
♥
Cecily McClain
District Four
Speak.
Think.
Listen.
Think.
Listen.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The second hand of the clock always creeped so slowly during the final minutes of class. The rubber sole of my combat boot tapped impatiently against the linoleum floor of the classroom, and I found myself chewing subconsciously on the tip of my pen. The other students around me had just began packing their books into the bags - I had managed to accomplish that ten minutes ago. I was already checked out. Over the years, I have developed a sense of loathing towards school, and anything or anyone associated with it. My grades suck, I don't talk to a single soul, and I'm pretty confident that every one of my peers, as well as my teachers, think I'm this sheltered being who is too frightened to speak up in fear of drawing attention. Well, the jokes on them. That's exactly who I am.
The bell of dismissal rings and I - am always - am the first one out the door. My eyes stay averted from others, typically directed at the floor or some other inanimate object in the distance; by now, it's clear that others have learned to disregard me. Just Cecily, off in her own little world... My feet carry me quickly through the halls of the school, the exit approaching: my sign of freedom.
At least until tomorrow, & I'll have to do it all again...
The least bit of hope I can hold onto is returning home to my father who will be patiently waiting for me with the catches he had brought home for me to prepare for dinner - just as my mother would do. Now that she's passed, I'm obligated to care for him to the best of my abilities.
I finally reach to push at the heavy doors of the school, swinging it open quickly, yet catching some sort of resistance. I can hear a hushed voice from the other side, and I manage to make it out of the building to see a young boy around my own age, maybe slightly younger, stagger backwards from the weight of the door, a few books slipping from his hands. I merely stare at the one that lands near my feet, knowing that I was the cause of the boy's fumbling. Hesitantly, I pick it up and hold it outstretch in the palm of my hand. We make eye contact for the briefest of seconds, but I quickly avert my eyes to the book as he retrieved it.
"Sorry." I mouthed the word, not even managing to make a sound, before I turn sharply on my heel and saunter away. [/color]