19 7.3: Seven Deadly Riddles- Part One (2/2)

There are supposedly two pictures for this challenge. I scroll down finding pictures in the janitor's closet and if I look close enough I can see a sea of tampons and pads on the floor. I gasp and slap a hand to my mouth as I remember the riddle. What had Sierra done? Did she actually raid everyone off their pads for $1000?

And I suppose if this was meant to destroy me, it was carried out on one of my periods. It was carried out on the day when my period started and no-one had a pad to offer me. Not even the school's clinic. And by the time, the nurse went to fetch me one from the storage units, I had embarrassingly leaked through the tissues I've placed in my underwear.

Sierra was with me, I remember. She was pretending to be angry at the school nurse for not providing such amenities. She was pretending to feel sorry for me because I know I must've had horrible cramps, with a leak like a cherry on top. I remember her asking me to wait in the clinic until she fetched my jacket. But after a few minutes, I couldn't wait, I decided to rush to the washroom.

And to my utter dismay, almost everyone was standing in the hallway as if waiting for my arrival with ridiculously wide, toothy grins and evil, anticipating eyes. I remember spotting Sierra's face amongst them and feeling very sick. And it is in that very moment, when everyone burst into fits of laughter, did an uncontainable feeling of loneliness creep up my spine and force me to run to the washroom where I could be actually alone.

It's then when I learnt that loneliness isn't a feeling but company with expectations. Because here's the thing about it; it takes as much as it gives. It indeed stole me from everybody's prying eyes, it did save me after all. But it also stole from me a place to grow and thrive. Like a symbiotic relationship.

And maybe, you know, I shouldn't have been ashamed of my female nature. I shouldn't have been embarrassed about something I didn't control, but somehow, the hushed conversations that happen as I pass by people, their laughter that they suppress in small smirks, made me feel so much different. It made me feel flawed.

It made me feel like I'm all alone dealing with this 'curse'.

I look back at the phone and know what I'd find if I continued scrolling. Perhaps a picture of me and my bloodied pants as I ran horrifiedly, with welling eyes to the washroom with hundreds and thousands of comments with laughing emojis.

”I'm so sorry-” Tobias whispers miserably and I sniff loudly. ”I have no clue you went through all of this-”

”That's only number two-” I tell him brokenly and shake my head. ”She brilliantly planned this. Everything-”

I select the return button, not waiting to hear Tobias' reply, enhanced with his sympathetic tone, sighs or tsks. Tobias shifts uncomfortably behind me.

”Wait-” He then tells me and covers the phone's screen with his hand. ”You shouldn't do this-”

I look at him incredulously and remove the phone from beneath his hand. ”No, I should-” I say solidly. ”I should know the truth. I should know that I didn't just snap and killed myself. I should know that there are valid reasons.”

Tobias sighs and shakes his head. ”Roseline, there are many people who faced all those issues. And it's real. With actual people hating on them. Not just a greedy best friend-” He says. ”And they're still alive and fighting.”

”Are you saying that those reasons are invalid?” I ask miserably. ”Are you serious?”

”See? This is exactly why you should stop-” He shakes his head. ”You're losing purpose, Rosey-” He tells me like he knows me, and it angers me. ”You shouldn't sympathize with your death. You shouldn't feel sorry for your living self-” He walks around me till he's standing in front of me, close to me. ”You should feel angry that you've killed yourself for no reason at all-”

My jaw drops in raw surprise. ”No reason?”

”Yes, Rosey, not a single reason-” He shakes his head as if he's having difficulty in reaching out for me. ”Can't you see? It was all inside your head!” He says slowly and I gulp. ”People didn't 'hate' you to put those notes in your locker and it definitely isn't a coincidence that everyone was there to 'see the colour through'-” He speaks bluntly. ”You were brutally played. And you-” He sighs sadly. ”You, Rosey- You wasted your life as a result.”

My lashes flutter as I stare in his spiralling, sad eyes. His body is close and wilting like it's hopeless, like it can't believe I've left so cruelly. Even Benji has his head drooped low. And it's almost impossible that someone can look that unhappy for a dead, wandering ghost.

”How can I be certain that I was 'played'?” I say, sniffing loudly because I know he's right. ”C'mon, Tobias, this is just-” I shake my head and look at him pleadingly. ”This is beyond me. I couldn't have known-” I cry. ”This is not fair-”

Tobias' looks at me like he might shed a tear or two. ”I'm afraid that's the moral of the story-” He tells me. ”We shouldn't have killed ourselves because we have no clue what life has in store for us. I mean, if you've survived-” He smiles brittly. ”You would've known, love-”

”I wasted my life-” I cry out miserably. ”I- I loved her-” I sniff and almost drop the phone when Tobias holds my hand with the phone. I look up at him and hear my sobs, even though I don't feel it. I don't feel the tension behind my temples, the heat behind my ears and my warm, salty tears. ”She played me!” I blather breathlessly. ”It's not fair!”

Tobias sighs and Benji barks, and I know that this is how regret feels like. Knowing that if I had lived and known this, I would've had my revenge. But now? I'm footless, worthless, dead. So, yes, instead, I cry dead, rotting tears that I can't feel on my dead, rotting face. I cry and wonder if all the dead can hear my heartwrenching screams of regret.

I sniff loudly and try calming my breaths. I look at Tobias who does nothing but study me and hope with his eyes that I'd feel better. But the dead can feel nothing but the blackity black of their graves and the rough, dry soil over their decaying bodies. They feel nothing but hopelessness and death and death.

”I hate her-” I hiss, simmering with pure rage, and I wonder if that's what ghosts feel like before they decide to haunt a person or a house. If they feel hatred so overwhelming and fulfilling, if they let their hatred be their purpose and thus dwell on the living.

Tobias looks at me cautiously. ”Maybe you should take a break-” He proposes and I sharply look at him.

”Take a break?” I ask him, my eyes steely and steady on his gentle ones. ”Oh, I'm just getting started.”