angst,school,hurt,pain, difference,influence
to the washroom
she was in the last stall again
Unlock it.
“Crawl under.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore
I couldn’t pity her anymore
Unlock the door, Gatty.
I heard the lock
slide
pushed the door open.
There she was.
Sitting on the floor
bare scarred arm
exposed and ready.
She fumbled
with a small pencil a sharpener
trying to pick off
the blade
with her bloody fingers.
I just stood there
getting more
and more angry.
She got it.
Oh, for fuck sakes
I stomped toward her
snatched the razor out of her hand
That’s enough!
You don’t need to be doing this.
She looked surprised
I’d never been angry with her before
“Give it back…”
I stared at her
for a few seconds
turned to the toilet
flushed the razor
down.
“That’s okay.”
She picked up her bag
shuffled through it
“I have a spare.”
She held it
in front of her big green eyes
looked at it
as if it were magical.
Fine.
But you’re alone.
I turned and left
the stall door wide open
she called after me
“Lock the door!”
Do it yourself.
I joined my other friends
in the hallway
laughing
and talking
I saw Gatty turn the corner
she was looking for someone
her eyes landed on me
and she came running
wrapped her arms around me
crying
“I didn’t do it
I didn’t do it…”
I hugged her tight.
It was the first time I realized
I can make a difference.