Refreshing

Sliding down the stairwell railing in a futile attempt to create artificial joy, I clumsily landed on my feet, glancing around, only to happily note that no one saw this pitiful action. But I wouldn’t blame anyone for mocking me

After all, I’m nothing but a disappointment.

God! Even I describe myself pathetically. How much did my Mom fuck up my head?

Self-conscious of my own being, I stepped into the warmth of the sun, Ava’s apartment located in the valley of the city, the hottest area in a 10 mile radius.

Palms immediately sweaty and dark stains appearing within seconds, I cursed and somewhat regretted my decision of precisely restarting my life today.

Dreading the reactions of my schoolmates to my return, I already pictured their cruel laughter and mocking comments. My stench, horrid appearance or bloodshot eyes just a few examples of the things I detested about myself.

And of course there was -

*bump*

Adrenaline started pumping through my veins. My throat tightened to the point I had trouble breathing. My eyes defocused as tears and trauma clouded my perception.

Yet despite all these signals of fear … there was just a single question coursing through my head: How? How could my body be so terrified of literally anything after a single experience with my Mom?

A hand gently touched my shoulder and despite its piercing cold, it calmed me considerably. Even if the only reason it did was since it was contrary to my mother’s glaring heat which I always admired and marveled about.

Refocusing on reality, I slowly made out the features which distinguished the person - the girl - in front of me from my Mom.

Shimmering black hair which trailed down in waves to her waist, a sharp face with squinting eyes, a remarkable predatory glint inside them.

The Asian in front of me wore a basic gray hoodie, ultimately allowing me to identify her precisely.

It was Alyssa, one of my best friends, a girl with a bombshell body who I’ve crushed on for ages but with the confidence and sexual experience of a toddler.

“Everything alright, bro?” She asked with concern in her raspy husky voice which sent shivers down my body and blood into my groin, the word ‘bro’ purposefully going unregistered by my smart brain.

I stammered: “Ye-Yeah! Just a bit … tired. Got little sleep last night. You know how it is: Once you start the season, you gotta finish high.” I was talking about Clash Royale, our mutual favorite game. I know, we’re adults, but we like that stuff, alright? Don’t judge.

“Just games. That’s all there was,” she smirked at me with this typical smug look, suggesting that my drained and tired look were the actions of a pleasant female company. Well … I wish.

In disbelief, I smiled at her, creating a prolonged pause until she grudgingly replied: “Fuck off. I know we’re not these kinds of people. Besides, sex surely can’t be that good that you want to carry a fetus in your womb for 9 months and care for it at least 18 years afterwards-”

She stopped right in her sentence, both of us glancing over at a strange lady.

Her belly expanded past any state of pregnancy I knew of, drooping towards the ground. Her eyes were blank, yet she exuded a dreamy aura of bliss and absolute satisfaction.

We strolled past her and gave each other an inquiring look, both thinking: “What the hell?”

But Alyssa was the one to break the silence as she stated in a way that allowed no disagreement: “See. Who must’ve knocked her up so good that she wants to live … like this.” She awkwardly gestured a giant ball in front of her with her tiny hands.

Deep down, I knew the answer.