Losing the Fight

            My eyes are plastered shut, but I somehow manage to open them. I'm not dead. “I hate this feeling,” I mutter to myself as I tumble out of bed, plummeting towards the floor which seems miles away. What day is it? I wonder.

            As I manage to pull myself up and stumble to the bathroom, I realize that I can barely feel my body. With each step, I slowly gain muscle control, though I feel as if my dream were more than simply that.

            The shower begins to pour as I slowly take off my shirt, feeling numb underneath. The words in my head are struggling against me, not wanting to become a complete thought.

I realize that I have been standing here, staring at nothing for almost ten minutes. The water is pounding into the bathtub as I step in. It feels as if the water is burning straight through my skin; I feel invincible, and, in a way, the pain feels like nothing.

When the water starts to become cold, I brave to turn it off and step out. Goosebumps are trying to take over my body, and I'm too weak to fight back.

“I'm so out of it,” I say. I’ve already dripped almost completely dry, but I cover myself with my towel and shake out my hair. Moments later, I find myself standing in my room, staring into my colorless closet.

Why is everything black? Has it always been like this? As I push one shirt over at a time, I feel like everything looks the same. Eventually, I pull out a skin-tight black t-shirt that barely covers my shoulders and stomach. Opening my dresser, I pull out a pair of pants covered in holes and my favorite black and silver zebra belt.

My clothes always fall perfectly over my body - is that weird to say? Everyone always says that they’re jealous of how skinny I am, but do they even understand what I go through? My curves are almost indistinguishable; I often feel like a stick.

Once I am finally dressed, I blow dry my hair, hoping to make it appear less stringy than usual. Instead of putting on my normal dosage of make-up, I proceed downstairs to grab a few pieces of toast.

“Good morning, darling,” my mother exclaims as I'm merely steps away from the first story of our house.

“Good morning,” I reply, though under my breath I mutter, “Why do you always have to be so cheerful?”

“Would you like some breakfast, Zailey? You look like you had a tough night.”

“Nah, can I just have some toast?” I don’t see why I'm asking; I’ll get it anyway.

The toast dissolves in my mouth and swims down to my stomach without my taste buds doing any work at all.

I pick up my backpack and slowly walk out of the door, hearing my mom yell something behind me.

 

The walk to school is excruciating; it feels as if every step I take is another mile.

Once I arrive at Grant Belle High School, I stand in front and examine it. Has it always been so washed-out? Have all of the trees always been so naked? Do these adolescents always stand in the same rebellious stance? I hope not. I hope it’s just me.

Math class is a blur. I hear explanations about polynomials, binomials, and some other type of -nomials. I have my notes written somewhere, but I don’t remember a thing. The bell rings to end class, and I'm startled.

Standing up, I feel the stinging sensation flowing through my leg - it fell asleep. I wish someone would carry me, I think to myself.

As I leave the classroom, one of my close friends, Danielle, approaches me. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You say that every day,” I reply in a harsh voice.

“Well, have you seen yourself? Your skin is pale, paler than usual. Your eyes look bloodshot. Did you sleep at all?” She sounds so caring. Maybe I should try and put my nightmares aside and smile.

“I haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Sorry.” I hope I sounded sincere.

She just smiles, and we begin walking down the hallway. Danielle is such a beautiful girl; sometimes I am jealous of her. Actually, I'm jealous of her quite often. Her skin is a beautiful tan color, and she has hair that flows perfectly down to the middle of her back. She’s a few inches shorter than me, probably about five foot tall, but she doesn’t let that bother her. The confidence in her voice is also expressed through her body. Her eyes sparkle when she talks, and she cares about everybody.

“Zailey?”

My mind snaps back to reality. Why was I thinking about her so much? “Sorry,” I say again.

“You should really go home and sleep,” her voice is so considerate.

I nod, though I know for a fact that I’d rather look like this than sleep again. I'm not ready to die.

“Here we are! You ready to go take that photography test? I heard it’s pretty easy from some of the students she had last year.”

Great, a test. “I'm not ready, but do I have a choice?” Danielle’s ready; she’s always ready. She has the brain of a rocket scientist.

We walk to our seats and the test begins. Did we actually learn this? I think to myself. Instead of putting any effort into the test, I just bullshit the whole thing. By the time I tell myself that I'm finished, I realize that I have drawn (scribbled) random designs across the edges of the paper.

The rest of the day goes by in the blink of an eye. English. Science. Lunch. History. Gym.

When the final bell rings, I finish pulling my t-shirt over my head and leave the school building. Goodbye, Grant Belle High School. Tomorrow is a new day.

 

Upon my arrival home, my mom greets me with a note sloppily written and tossed on the counter. As I'm trying to read her piggish handwriting, the phone rings.

“Hello, Tucker residence.”

“Hello, is Susan there?” It was a man; I would guess middle-aged.

“She is not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

“No.” Click.

That was rude, I think to myself, but some people are just like that.

I finish decoding the note to realize that it reads: I’ll be home around eight. Cook for yourself. No friends.

My eyelids are slowly pushing down, causing my once bright and beautiful world to become dark and dull. Maybe I should sleep, I think to myself. No, that’s a bad idea. I'm not ready to die. The angel and devil on my shoulders debate back and forth, pounding on my brain in the middle.

Moments later, I find myself on the recliner, fighting myself to stay awake. The lights are off; what a mistake. I should have turned them on when I came home. This simple mistake could change my life tonight.

The fight is ending; I am losing.

Reviews

[Danielle Wesley]

I really enjoy this story! You have such a unique idea and I'm eager to see where you're going to take it. I like how you carried along the dream-like state Zailey feels into reality. It really creates a lot of suspense that keeps the reader guessing. You have a great writing style and an amazing idea. Keep going! I will surely keep reading. :)

[Weaver]

"I hate this feeling, I mutter" - If the words are actually spoken, even if just under her breath, they need to be in quotation marks. If they are thoughts instead, they need to be italicized, and "mutter to myself" changed to "think."
"the floor which seems" - comma after "floor"
"What day is it?" - quotes around spoken words - you may want to use something other than "mutter to myself" here, instead of repeating it
period after "a complete thought"
comma after "invincible"
"I brave to turn it off" -- dropped word? - this is awkwardly worded
"I'm so out of it, I mutter" - quotes around spoken words - don't use "mutter" every time (unlike "said," which blends into the background, words like "mutter" stand out and should be used sparingly)
"already almost dripped completely dry" - "already dripped almost completely dry"
Dash got changed into a double quote after "over my body"
"how skinny am I" - "how skinny I am"
"I feel like a stick quite often" - awkward - try "I often feel like a stick"
"Good morning darling" - comma after "morning"
"I'm merely steps away" - "mere"
comma, not period, after "under my breath I mutter"
"I’ll get it anyways" - "anyway"
no comma after "to my stomach"
no quotation mark before "nomials"
comma after "to end class"
dash changed to quote after "flowing through my leg"
"She sounded so caring" - "sounds"
comma after "She just smiles"
"I'm jealous of quite often" - dropped word?
"probably about five foot" - "probably about five feet"
comma after "when she talks"
period, not comma, after "go home and sleep"
semicolon or period, not comma, after "Danielle’s ready"
"I just bull s**t the whole thing" - "bullshit"
"Upon arriving home, my mom" - try "When I arrive home" or something like that - as written, the sentence says that this happens when the mom arrives home
hyphenate "middle aged"
"to realize that it reads" - either change to "to realize what it reads" or change colon to comma and italicize words from note
semicolon or period, not comma, after "The lights are off"
There are a lot of passive-voice verbs in this chapter. I don't know if you intend that or not; given the mental/emotional state of the narrator, it does seem somewhat fitting for her descriptions to be passive, but it may also dull the impact of her dread of sleeping.

[Miranda]

keep going. its really good =)