Mirror

VIII

***
Reminisce

  PERSON B IS WHAT I USED TO CALL DRAVEN.
  This was way, way back when Draven was nothing more than a disruptive thought living inside my head. A mere migraine more or less. It was during Dr. Nate's parts-work when I was able to label this "part" of me, but little did I know Person B had long been more than a simple part. Little did I know Person B had become their own individual: Draven.

  Since things aren't looking the brightest, less bright than usual, my mind naturally sinks back to the beginning of things. Honestly, I curse myself for it. Of all the things my mind chooses to forget, it's not this. I'm cursed to relive every second of it as soon as I think about it. Such as now. The memory devours me each time.

  I remember the fall breeze. It was cool enough to only need a light sweater. I had on my black zip up that day, and the most unsettling headache.

  "Fuck me..." I groaned, leaning against the school bathroom's entrance. Each passing second was like a bat to the back of my head. The school lights weren't helping either.

  A small group of girls passed by me on the way. I felt as their shoulders grazed mine, causing me to flinch at the aches it sent through my weakened body. Once I passed them, I tumbled into a stall, locked the door, and dropped onto the toilet seat.

  Heat flashes and cool sweat trickled down every inch of me. I held my head in my hands, gently swinging side to side. I swore then that I was going to die. Instead, I switched between sitting on the toilet seat with my head hanging over the toilet to the floor, propped up like a rag doll.

  The buzz of my phone seemed to be the only thing to grasp my attention. I dug inside my back pocket and stared at the worried texts my mom sent me. I was more worried about the 10 plus texts she sent rather than my phone swirling in my hand. Most importantly, the time reading somewhere around six. The exacts of things weren't clear, but I knew I'd messed up.

  "Oh fuck," I gasped to myself. As I went to push myself off the toilet, I stumbled to the side.

  With a twitching eye and a grimace taking hold of my face, I leaned against the sink and stilled. The room beneath my feet shook and spun for longer than I appreciated. I was glad the body aches had turned into soreness. Nonetheless, it felt like I died and came back.

  "This is the worst," I mumbled to myself, waving a hand at the sink to start the water. "I want to go to sleep."

  The water running through my fingers, over the open scratches of my hands soothed both my mental and physical pains. Water had a way of being a mediator to many of my discomforted times. It was a melody to my troubles.

  "Well, you can't do that in the school bathrooms," a startled voice laughed.
    
  I had practically no reaction to the voice. A custodian no doubt. It's far too late for everyone else to be at school still.

  My eyes shut. My hands clasped and unclasped beneath the water. I didn't bother to throw the voice a glance over my shoulder. Embarrassment, first and second hand, blew over my body. Knowing I'd remember this moment every once in a while, pained me. Socially.
     
  "Sorry, I was just about to leave," I replied.
     
  I wiped my hands on my jeans. I rubbed at my head before opening my eyes and turning around. My eyebrows furrowed when a custodian, anyone really, wasn't there. I peaked around the corner of the bathroom and found no one. I re-entered the bathroom and scanned around still finding no one around.
    
  Right as I shrugged it off and nearly walked right out of the bathroom, I jerked to a stop. My hands flew up to keep my body from crashing into theirs. I stepped away.
    
  "I'm sorry," I whispered quickly, glancing up.