Subject Me To Life [Book One] ✔️ *EDITING*

Chapter Thirty-Eight

*Not edited*Not proofread*

Chapter 38- Cat got your tongue?:

If Lilah keeps fussing over me, asking me if I'm alright and repeating that if there is anything she can do for me, she'll do it, we're going to have some serious fucking issues.

Ten minutes I've been in this fucking school for; ten fucking minutes and she's done enough talking to last me all fucking year.

        What a terrible start to a Tuesday morning.

"How are you feeling?" Her hazel eyes dart over to the healing cut on my forehead. "That doesn't look too great..." I push her out of the way as I slam my locker shut, walking down the corridor to my first lesson with a limp. "Shouldn't you have like... crutches or something? Dakota said you sprained your ankle, or twisted it. Are you sure it's not broken? Did you get it checked out?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask rhetorically. My head is throbbing, my ankle is in mild discomfort, and Lilah is running down my almost-nonexistent patience. I don't even fucking know where I'm going; Math, English, Biology? I haven't a fucking clue. I'm just walking to get away from that fucking annoying redhead, but she just keeps fucking following me.

"History," she announces suddenly, her tone defeated. She sounds distant, but I don't care enough— or at all, actually— to ask about it.

I barely glance at her as I frown. "What?"

She sighs, "History. You have history. You're going the wrong way," she points at the wall that has 'Art' painted across it in graffiti writing, a few sketches of art-related images surrounding the three colourful letters. Oh. "You've been here long enough, you'd think you'd know where you're going by now."

My fingers twitch subconsciously and I have to remind myself to stay calm. Lilah is in a miserable mood and it doesn't suit her well; almost like the colour orange.

I want to choke her.

"Maybe if you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life, I'd be able to concentrate," I snap agitatedly. Although admittedly, while Lilah is being fucking annoying, she isn't the reason I'd forgotten where I was meant to be going. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately, however I blamed it on the lack of sleep.

        And possibly the concussions.

        I wait for a retort, a sigh of some sort, maybe a slight mumble underneath her breath, something that would make me want to rip her tongue out, but nothing comes. She's silent as she continues walking down the corridor to whichever class she is on her way to, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black hoodie. I don't think I've ever seen her wear such a dark colour before. In fact, I don't even think she owns any colours so dull. The hoodie looks too big to fit properly on her dinky frame, which makes me wonder if it's even hers.

        With a shake of the head, I turn around and slowly make my way to history, purposefully taking small steps to waste time. I fucking hate history with a passion. Not only is it completely irrelevant and a waste of a lesson for anyone that doesn't want to work in a museum or teach the God-awful subject, but it is also really fucking boring.

        I don't even have time for the living, let alone the fucking dead.

I stroll through the plain corridors of South Raven High, walls lined with old lockers, until I pass a display cabinet with flowers covering the floor beneath it. I probably wouldn't have stopped to act like I was interested had I not been trying to deliberately make myself late. But I am, so I stop.