Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult by Sandy Masia

to be
comfortable, therefore the silence in the room was just thorny.
It’s at this point where I started talking to her, asking her
trivial questions about herself in hopes that I will understand her
better. She was intrigued by me, she asked me a couple of
questions. The same kind of questions. Everything I said just
sounded like a lie to me. So I told her the truth about myself and
my problem. I cracked. She held me and told me that if I ever need
someone to talk to she will always be there to listen. I felt like
she got it, that finally I found that shoulder I could cry on. It
was too good to believe, but she was believable. Before I had only
seen stuff like that in movies. It meant a lot to me that it was
happening to me.
    “As shit
happened during the week I called her. I needed to talk and stuff.
She didn’t answer my calls nor reply to any of my messages. On
Facebook she would be active but never flippen’ replied to my
inboxes. My emails were never returned. So it’s clear she was
avoiding me or ignoring me or just plain doing both. It is not like
she did not have time from the looks it, her status updates were
posted plenty of times. What is confusing is that whenever she sees
me in class she is all friendly and jolly like nothing happened.
Come the end of class she just goes on about her business like I
had just vanished from her world, like I never came into it at some
point. Even those chats are not really chats but only small talks.
This freakin’ confuses me, it makes me feel stupid. As Macfearson
would say, it smokes me up! I’m puked-up! Why is it when people
don’t like you or they don’t care about you they don’t just tell
you? Not in a harsh insulting way but in some civil or appropriate
to the situation manner. Save all of us the heartache.” I sighed.
Submerging into the ghost of those harrowing, pulverizing
moments.
    My heart
sagged, malfunctioning. I felt ashamed, angry, rejected, tormented,
patronized and jizzed on. It stunk as much as it sucked like rotten
flesh, my face did a good job not hiding it. This was grief for
myself, or perhaps the lifelings themselves. Not that I
cared. There is no greater beast than that of human making.
    Cheryl leaned
forward, making me nervous.
    Don’t poke
at me lady , I bawled inside, much aggressive than I will be
once I set my eyes on her. My defiled self cowered as it felt
exposed.
    “So how would
you phrase something of that nature without being rude?” she
said.
    I fidgeted.
“Well, I would say something like ‘Sandy, I can’t promise to be
your friend or be close to you, not that I don’t like you. I think
you are of value to some other people but not me and not now. But
we can always be acquaintances’ .But if the person does not mean
any of that they shouldn’t bother saying it. If the person hates me
and they don’t like me they should just say it. If they think I’m a
freak and a punk they should just say it. If they think I’m a
going-nowhere-John they should say it. That is so much better.”
    She slightly
turned her face to one side, eyes still on me. “You won’t find it
rude or upsetting?”
    I looked up,
formulating my answer. For a moment I got caught in the idea that I
was searching for an object to demonstrate with. “Well, to be
honest, it would be hurtful and concerning. Still better though. It
is easier to get over. No mystery, no trouble. It’s like getting
your school results only to discover you failed Math. If that is
important to you, you will be sad or stressed out for a couple of
days but eventually you will have some perspective on what to do
next. It saves a lot of time, energy and a trunk of
heartache...shock and confusion. You see? What music do you listen
to?”
    “I don’t
understand.”
    “Do you listen
to commercial rock?”
    She shook her
head smiling. “Sometimes.” ‘some’ and ‘times’ sounded miles away
from each other in her utterance.
    “Have you heard
‘Broken Strings’ by James