Flying Free (MAC Security 2.50)

It became apparent very early on that I needed to learn my own coping techniques and that’s exactly what I’ve done, but what happened earlier in the lecture hall, the unknown voice and when he touched me, it was just too much.

That was all that my body and mind could take, so as soon as Jess had walked me to our apartment, I went straight to bed.

Now, at four in the morning, I still haven’t slept and I’ve got to be up in a couple of hours for my early morning class.

The sun peeking through the edges of the blinds has me huffing as I pull my comforter back and jump out of bed.

Pulling the cord on the blinds, I squint as the sun blinds me temporarily. I don’t have much of a view, just a small parking lot but it’s still my view. Something that I’m proud of.

Both me and Jess pay for this apartment without any help and it’s a feeling that I can’t describe, being able to do it on my own. Although I suspect that her boyfriend pays some towards her half, he does stay here more than his own place after all.

I don’t mind that he stays here but what I do mind is him eating all of my food. It’s a small thing and something that I never thought would bother me but when you’ve lived off only a slice of bread a day, having your own food becomes important.

We don’t have a strict ‘this is mine and that is yours’ rule, but we always ask each other first. But Scott? He just eats whatever he likes and it’s not as if he eats a small amount either.

Being the star baseball player, the one who throws the balls? What are they called again? Pitcher? Ah, I don’t know what the proper term is, anyway, he basically eats his we

ight in food every day.

Every. Single. Day.

Stepping over the clothes that I threw on the floor yesterday, I pull my door open and shuffle down the hallway and into the kitchen.

The whole apartment is quaint with two bedrooms, a bathroom and a small living room and kitchen combined in one, the only thing that separates the two is a small waist high wall. Sharing a bathroom with Jess can be a nightmare and it takes careful planning so that I can have a hot shower.

The whole place is painted white with black accents here and there. Jess insisted on the white, saying that it’s calming and would help me. I didn’t disagree with her but I did feel like it was a little cold at times.

Jess doesn’t know what happened to me but she has seen glimpses of the scars, and although she said to me when we first met in our shared dorm that she would always be there to talk to, I still haven’t opened up to her.

I honestly don’t think I ever will.

Her ‘in your face’ personality scared me at first but after I got to know her a little better I could see how well living together would work. She’s a genuine person and isn’t driven by all the popularity stuff. Sure, she dates a baseball player but it’s not because of the popularity that comes with it.

You can see how much they love each other and I see it more than anyone.

Switching the coffee pot on, I lean against the counter and wait for it to brew. Pulling two cups down, knowing that Scott will be out any second to go and do his early morning training, I pour us both a cup. Leaving his on the counter, I go and sit on the couch.

Catching my cell light blinking out the corner of my eye, I resist looking at it for all of two seconds before I huff and grab it.

Swiping at the screen, I type in my pass code and scroll past all of the missed calls and messages.

I know exactly who they’re from and what they’re about.

I write out a quick text to Anita telling her that I’ll call her to rearrange another appointment and then one to Elena to tell her that everything is fine, that I’m fine.

Anita always does that, whenever she can’t get in contact with me she calls Elena.

At first I was fine with it, after all Elena had helped bring me back from the brink with taking me in for a couple of months before I came to college. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am right now but I’m nineteen, turning twenty this year.

I’m not a child, if I don’t want to see a shrink, then I don’t have to.

“Ahhh,” Scott moans when he walks into the kitchen. “Thanks, Ava.”

“Welcome,” I whisper with a nod of my head. He knows the drill; one word answers are all he gets.

He’s tried so many times over the last year to get more out of me but I never do say anything more, I just can’t bring myself to have a conversation with him just yet but I’m starting to warm to the idea of actually talking to him properly.

That’s another thing I can control, how I answer people, how I talk. Sure, it’d be nice to talk in complete sentences with a stranger or be in the same room as a man and not freak out.