The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(14)

Slowly dragging my pillow from where it has been shielding my face from the dreaded light of morning, my eyes fall directly on Quinn as she exits the bathroom with my black hair dye in her hands, the golden flecks in her green eyes lit with curiosity, hope, and determination.
A small growl escapes my lips as I throw my pillow onto the floor. I can tell she’s trying to contain her excitement at the possibility of breaking me, but failing miserably. After placing my beloved hair products on my desk, she sits on the edge of my bed and I find myself shocked that for the first time since school started, I don’t have to fight the urge to scoot away from her. I do sit up though and stretch for a ridiculous amount of time, stalling.
My hands fall to my lap and I release a defeated sigh before answering. “Okay, here’s the deal. I will give you five questions that I promise to answer honestly. That being said, do you really want to waste the first one on the true color of my hair?”
Quinn considers my question for a while before bringing her legs onto my bed and curling them underneath her as though getting ready for a really enthralling story. All she’s missing is the popcorn.
Scrunching her mouth to the side, she deliberates for a lengthy amount of time before finally landing on the all-important first question. “Your parents. What are they like?”
A breath lodges in my throat and my heart stammers for a brief second before it begins thudding against my ribcage. I can feel the blood draining from my already color-challenged face as I speak. “They died when I was younger.” And for some reason, I dimwittedly throw in the answer to what could have possibly been another question. “Linda is my legal guardian. She has been since I was eight years old.”
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Quinn’s entire expression falls to the floor, dipping downward. She breathes in deeply with the information given and nods slightly before proceeding. “Siblings?”
“I had a sister once. She also died,” I respond with a forced lack of emotion. Tears threaten my eyes, but I swallow them back, along with the pain. Quinn’s tears, however, slide gracefully from her eyes and trail slowly down her cheeks. I mentally shake my head. This is exactly why I don’t talk about the past. I don’t even know why I offered to answer these God-awful questions. I blame the early morning assault, but unfortunately, my brain is fully functional now and there’s no escaping the crippling heartache that comes along with the answers.
Taking a deep breath through my nose, I quickly compose myself while Quinn continues to watch my reaction warily. After wiping the moisture from her face with her fingertips, she places her hand on top of my leg which is still enveloped within the warmth of my black and gray striped comforter. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“That’s life I guess,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. “Unfortunately, for the people around me, life tends to come with an extraordinarily short expiration date. Like milk.”
Completely ignoring my attempt at deflection, Quinn dips her head in my direction. “So…the hair, the contacts, the piercings…they are to keep people away from you?”
I nod my answer. The corners of her mouth once again angle downward as she takes in my mind-blowing revelation.
“That’s three. Two more to go. Unless you’re done, which is completely fine by me.” She hesitantly shakes her head, curiosity clearly outweighing her sorrow for my sucky-ass life, right before leaning forward and snaking my student I.D. off my bedside table. After taking a glance at it, she flashes it in front of my face. I can literally see the light bulb click on as it rests in its imaginary space above her head.
“Is your name really Raven?” Lowering the laminated square a tad, her eyes tighten as she peers at me over the top of it.
My lower lip is sucked in-between my teeth as I nibble, debating my answer. Honesty in this case is completely subjective. As much as I want to disclose the true answer, I don’t. I can’t. The acknowledgment of my birth name would only serve to rip open a gaping hole in my fortress, linking my past with my present. Raven, for me, is a name that provides me with a comforting sense of autonomy, relinquished from the horror of actually having to face my past. To come to terms with it. Speaking about the death of my family, I’m still able to keep that connection severed. Even breathing the name, well, in my own twisted mind, would be an act of resurrecting the girl that I buried right along with them. And that’s never going to happen. I am Raven. The little girl no longer exists.
“Yes,” I state calmly. Quinn’s eyes narrow even further, forming crinkles around the sides, as she holds her stare on my vacant face. After a few seconds, she seems to accept my answer before releasing it. Drumming her fingers still on top of my leg, she glances up at the ceiling. “Last one. Better make it good, huh?”
I remain still, patiently awaiting her question while reinforcing my walls that have bowed and weakened slightly since the beginning of this inquisition. Just as I have them fortified, she drags her stare away from the fluorescent lights overhead to meet mine.
A slight smile crosses her lips as she removes her hand from my leg and stands, taking a small step back before speaking. “Wanna go get some breakfast?”
A relieved breath makes its way out of my mouth, and damn if a smile doesn’t break across my face too.
With that one stupid question, my defenses are pierced and unfamiliar warmth slowly begins to seep inside and spread throughout, her infiltration sparking to life the tiniest little “Quinn Matthews” section in my heart.