I stared out of the window, my pale reflection barely visible, mocking me. White curly hair, pitch black eyes, the features of a disgusting mess. I didn't blink. Didn't breathe. It was as if I was trapped in the glass, stuck between being and nothing. A familiar voice snapped me out of my trance.
"Sakura. Sakura. Sakura! Come help me with the group project!"
For the first time today, I looked away from the window and turned to gaze at the source of the voice, Sora. Her blue eyes shined along with the blue strip in her black hair. Really highlighting the fatigue that clung to my face like dried blood, and she picked up on it immediately. She turned her head repeatedly, as if she was mocking an owl. I didn't even flinch, didn't change my expression. I glanced at the paper on Sora's desk, my eyes narrowed when I saw my name written across it.
"Why do you keep putting my name on the projects?"
I don't deserve it. My voice began to tremble as I clenched my dry fist.
"I don't work on any of them."
She gave no answer, just a smile. I turned away and stared back outside the window. She continued to look at me like I was worthy of such attention. I hate it, she does my assignments for me, my class duties. I hate it. I hate soccer. I hate…A bitter tension swelled in my throat. My face twisted, and through my gritted teeth. My thoughts surfaced.
"I hate myself."
Silence. No one cared, I could die right now and no one would care. Maybe I should just e- Sora grabbed onto my wrist with all her might and stared at me with intensity.
"What did you just say?"
I didn't look back, I couldn't. I don't want to face it. I can't.
"Please, let go of me."
She tightened her grip and reinforced it by gripping my wrist with her other hand.
"Please, let me help you! You make me feel so useless!"
Sora sniffled. I couldn't answer, there was no answer. I couldn't even look her in the face. I'm such a coward. I turned to face her with a smile. And opened my dry ass lips to speak.
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
Her face was full of tears. Sora tightened her grip, then WHAM! The sting of the slap caused my eyes to widen. Everyone in the class turned back to look at the short black haired girl with blue eyes. Tch, why did it hurt so much?
I grabbed my backpack and stood up. Jerking my hand away from her.
"Don't hit me. You shouldn't touch strangers like that."
I said while glaring at her. She stared at me, frozen. Her mouth was open yet her jaw was closed. Her eyes stared at my eyes. Why did I say that? I'm… I walked past her. Grabbing on to the door handle I paused for a moment. This will be the last time I ever see her. I want to look one last time. But I can't, not after what I've done. I'm…I'm sorry for everything. I turned to my teacher and accidentally glared at him.
"I'm going home."
Walking through the halls, the only thing I could focus on was myself—my footsteps, my emotions, my appearance, my pride. My vision kept getting darker, till there was nothing to see, to reach for. I was just a hollow shell dragging itself through the desert of existence. Nothing gained, nothing lost.
My eyes trembled as tears began to fall from my ugly face. I looked up at the night-lit sky. I want to go back…The void began to swallow the last bit of hope in my soul. Finally being able to let my dream go, I couldn't help but let out a smile of relief. Suddenly I felt arms wrap around me. My body didn't even react, I already knew who it was. She hugged me tighter and tighter, waiting for me to say something. Her hair was snow-white and her eyes shimmered like diamonds in the moonlight. The beauty of an angel.
"Rough day?"
Her cheeks rested on my back, like always. Everything is going the same way it did since we were little. I let out a sigh.
"Same as yesterday."
Ray released me, her gaze trailing my fading silhouette.
"I have to help the team with plays and formations. I'll see you tomorrow."
I didn't respond. I just kept walking. What she was talking about wasn't important enough for a reaction.
I finally made it home and kicked off my shoes, the house was as noisy as ever. I tried to walk by without making a sound but the light instantly flicked on.
"Sit down."
It was my father. I obeyed and sat across the glass table. My reflection stared back at me, mocking me. Again. I already knew what he was gonna ask. I know what he wants, what he expects.
"When are you going back to soccer?"
A chair flew across the room. I slammed my fist on the table. I can't, I can't even look him in the eyes. My reflection smiled, I instantly punched the glass table.
"DON'T LOOK AT ME!"
My voice cracked as I stumbled, crashing into the wall with a bloodied hand.
"Stop asking me that damn question…"
I said out of breath.
"Please, stop."
I covered my face with both of my hands, whimpering pathetically in the corner. The blood trailed down my face like a tear.
"Never. Never again."
My father stared at me as if I wasn't breaking down right in front of him.
"Sit back down."
Please.
"NO! I CAN'T!"
Please.
"If you won't play soccer for yourself. Do it for me."
He slightly softened his tone.
"A father never wants to see his son suffer."
I can't. I'm sorry, I can't.
"I don't deserve to be your son. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
The silence in the room highlighted my pathetic whimpering.
"Okay, stranger."
I continued to cover my face and walked up the stairs, collapsing onto my bed as soon as I stepped foot into my room.
The next morning, I didn't move—I couldn't. I just stared at my scarred hand, before going back to sleep.
A younger me stood on the pitch, confidence written all over my face. I dribbled with a condescending grin on my face. Three defenders closed in. One of my teammates waved at me screaming that they were wide open. But that didn't matter, I wanted to score and in the future I yearned for I was the only name on the scoreboard.
"I'm not mediocre!"
So I ignored him, I cut past two and went for the shot but the third one crashed into me. A yellow card was called and it was time for a penalty kick. I stood up to take the penalty but my teammates blocked my path.
"You're not shooting."
I grabbed him by the collar.
"Move. This is my team!"
His fist struck my face, causing it to bleed in seconds. I turned toward the coach but he just stared with disappointment.
"You're the problem Sakura."
My head visibly turned with confusion. I'm the best player…I'M APART OF THE TRIO!
"COACH KICK HIM OFF THE TEAM!"
"You're the cancer. If anyone leaves, it's you."
I grabbed onto the bottom of the coach's shirt and pleaded.
"B-BUT YOU CAN'T WIN WITHOUT ME!"
But they did. They could win without me. I watched them celebrate silently, forgotten in the corner. I walked by my father who had watched the game.
"Why didn't you take the penalty?"
I couldn't even look him in the eyes. My eyes gravitated to the ground.
"I quit."
The sound of the TV woke me up. I looked around the room, snacks everywhere. Who turned the TV on? And why do I feel this pressure on my lap? I looked down to see Sora laying on my lap, still in uniform. A sly smirk twisted my face as I slowly crawled out of my blanket and walked out of the house. The morning air stung, a trip to the convenience store felt like a journey through the desert. HONK! I looked at the road, the cars zoomed past me. It was like I was in a trance. Suddenly, my foot hovered over the curb.