The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(19)


Every single one of the underlying pictures has been annihilated. In some, gaping holes replace where the eyes are supposed to be, leaving nothing but jagged edges in their place. In others, the face has been scratched beyond recognition—dull, angry white marks embedded deeply into the glossy finish. Words like pig, repulsive, heifer, disgusting and ugly are carved into the paper, her revulsion permanently engraved across her body. Muffin top catches my eye, and a jolt courses through my veins, Sabrina’s words so painfully fresh in my mind. I sift through a few more, horrified at the inscriptions of hatred and loathing in front of me.
As I finally reach the bottom of the pile, a single tear releases from the corner of my eye, flowing freely down my face while I read the etching displayed on the last picture.
I want to die.
“Raven! Brush?” The bathroom door creaks open and I quickly shove everything back into the envelope before softly pressing the drawer closed. Just as I turn and take a small step, the tip of my shoe sends the brush sliding across the floor until it dead ends against Quinn’s bare foot. Her eyes flit quickly over the desk before landing on the brush in front of her as she slowly and deliberately bends her terrycloth covered body to retrieve it, before rising and meeting my gaze.
“Found it,” I offer meekly, worried that if I say anything more my guilt will proclaim itself. Quinn’s eyes tighten for a brief moment, watching me with caution. “I see that. Find anything else?”
“Nope,” I reply as though the words can’t get off my tongue fast enough.
The seconds tick by until finally Quinn’s face begins to soften and she offers me a smile. “Okay. Well, I’m gonna take a quick one and then we can head to class.”
I manage a small nod before she spins around and heads to the bathroom, finally shutting the door behind her. Robotically, my steps take me to my bed and as I fall backwards, my eyes find the ceiling and my brain reels.
I know I should say something, talk to her, but as Quinn’s mutilated pictures flip repeatedly in my mind, one after another, I’m painfully reminded that she seems to have just as many protective layers as I do. Layers that can’t be forcefully ripped away in haste; the damage would be irreparable.
I want to die.
Staring upwards, I say a silent prayer that I’m doing the right thing…
Because I know better than anyone how consuming the idea of death can be.

Chapter Ten

“Quinn okay?” Kaeleb asks, heaving his backpack on his shoulder as we head to our Elements of Trust class. “I haven’t seen you guys at breakfast lately.”
“She’s okay. Quiet. She did make up with Sabrina though.” Kaeleb’s irritated expression reflects my own inner dissatisfaction with this development.
“I know,” I concede. “I think it’s just easier for her right now to forgive and forget. Evidently there are some deep-rooted ties there that she doesn’t want to mess with…family stuff, you know?” I explain, not that I really understand it.
A harsh grunt next to me tells me he feels the same way.
“I’ll try to get her to come to breakfast tomorrow,” I add.
Kaeleb nods before grinning back at me. “Have you seen Sabrina or Candace? You know, since…”
The corner of my mouth lifts, still extremely self-satisfied with my cereal vengeance. “No, but I’m sure I will, unfortunately.”
“Sign me up for that shit.”
I chuckle under my breath as we continue walking, cutting across the lawn together, the fresh cut grass clinging to my Docs. A bitter gust of wind and the reddish hue of the leaves remind me that fall is ending and that we will be heading into winter soon. Even with the sun shining, it’s getting a bit chilly. As an involuntary shiver rakes over my entire body, Kaeleb throws me a sideways glance. I really should have grabbed my jacket. This old worn-out concert tee isn’t cutting it.
Kaeleb stops mid-stride and shrugs his backpack and leather bomber jacket onto the ground, leaving him in a heather grey hoodie that reads JUST HIT IT across his chest in block letters above an infamous Nike swoosh. After regrettably reading his delusion of grandeur, a smirk crosses my face. “Get a lot of dates wearing that do ya?”
“I get a lot of dates no matter what I’m wearing.” His lips twitch as he attempts to maintain a serious face. He’s become quite the ladies’ man since school started. It’s no surprise really. Kaeleb oozes sexy from every pore in his body.
Not that I pay attention.
“Right. Highly-regarded, self-respecting women no doubt,” I respond, the barbell of my black eyebrow lifting in annoyance.
His straight face breaks with smug laughter. “Hey, it’s college. I’m not trying to be a saint.”
“Well, you’re definitely on your way to Dating Hell. I’m just waiting on you to get that one, clingy, cries-when-you-don’t-call, psycho-stalker girl. Sign me up for that shit.”
With yet another laugh, he reaches down and grips the leather jacket in his hand before stepping closer to me and extending his arm, graciously offering his outermost layer for me to wear. I can feel the residual heat from his body as I take it from him.
“Oh! For me?” I yell with mock excitement, “Oh-em-geeeee! Kaeleb McMadden just gave me his jacket!” I make sure to fan my face for dramatic effect and watch as a group of girls passes us, their jaws dragging the ground. Rolling my eyes, I fight the urge to give them the finger, which seems to be my favorite form of communication with anyone that isn’t Quinn or Kaeleb these days. Well, Quinn anyway.

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