Beauty in the Breakdown

I've heard all sorts of stories of what Hell is supposed to be like, but I'm a firm believer that it resembles Sister Catherine's office. You would think that after my many reoccuring appearances in the stiff wooden chairs with the haunting pictures of Jesus looking down upon me that I might actually get used to the place.


Fat chance. Sister Catherine's office always made me more nervous than the woman herself did. I was far less worried about the detentions I was no doubt about to recieve then of Jesus himself coming out of the particularly gruesome crucifixion painting she chose to hang behind her desk. I tried to avoid his sad gaze and instead focused all of my energy on wasting breath on Sister Catherine.

"Sister Catherine, you're looking as lovely and vivacious as ever."

She shook her head before resting it in her hands.

"Alexandra, I do not know what we're going to do with you. You're constantly cutting class, and smoking? How could you do that? You know it would break your poor mother's heart."

I tried out an apologetic smile. "Oops?"

"You've disappointed me Alexandra. Please, attend your classes. I cannot stress how important education is."

I had heard the speech so many times that I'm sure I could say it as a prayer at the dinner table. I stopped listening and zoned out as she rambled on. Sister Catherine was a genuinely nice woman, but her downfall was her heart. A sensible nun would have kicked my ass out of their school long ago. No, it was Sister Catherine's heart that kept me chained to this place, as well as to the detention room.

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"Sister Jane, I've got detention again, can you believe it?!"

Sister Jane was the nun who sat with us delinquents in dentention. She rolled her eyes as I took my usual spot by the window, scanning the room to see who I had it with today. A boy in the back blasted death metal from his headphones while he bounced slightly in his seat, his veil of girlishly long hair hiding his face. Another boy sat a few seats across from him. He was large and appeared to have a bad case of acne. We made eye contact and he smiled at me. I made sure to give him a disgusted look as I turned away. Two brunette girls sat close together in the middle and on the opposite side of the room from me sat a redheaded girl. She looked familiar and I racked my brain for where I had seen her from.

I indulged in a nostalgic smile as I remembered. I had fought her best friend freshmen year. We hadn't done much damage to each other, mostly because I was cursed with being short and scrawny and because she was cursed with being a gigantic wuss, but I had been suspended for a week nonetheless. Come to think of it, I had gotten into quite a few fights here, clearly by no fault of my own. Was it my fault that other girls had jealousy and rage issues? No, their parents clearly need to invest in psychiatric help for their obviously disturbed daughters. Then I wouldn't have smacked that girl. I don't know why other people don't see the truth as clearly as I do.

I sighed and settled further down into my desk, getting ready for a long hour of zoning out while I looked through the window. I had just gotten to the point where I was oblivious to my surroundings when the door banged open.

I must have jumped ten feet as my head whipped towards the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway was what I temporarily considered my future husband. He was tall and lean, built like one of those boys you always catch a glimpse of on the walls before you pass out from the fumes at Abercrombie. I was suprised, however, at just how pale he was. His skin seemed to blend in almost seamlessly with his white buttoned-down shirt. His face reminded me of those ancient greek sculptures of the gods whose features were strong but delicate. His eyes were dark, and appeared to have circles underneath them. He looked nervous and was topped off with a shaggy mess of black hair.

My eyebrows shot up as I noticed several of the other girls in the room take notice of him, the redhead was staring and the brunettes were whispering frantically. I looked back at him as he stood unmoving in the doorway. I noticed that he was shaking, and sweat had formed on his forehead. Why wasn't he moving? Sister Jane looked at him expectantly.

"May I help you, Sir?"

I watched as he stopped looking around the room and took in Sister Jane. He nodded his head slowly and walked forward. There was something off about his walk. It just didn't look right to me. I momentarily wondered if he had a pegleg before ruling it out. His movement hadn't been awkward, it had just been... different. He handed her a piece of paper which she read quickly before nodding.

"Take a seat."

He scanned the aisles before moving to the one furthest from me and traveling to the very back. I settled back into my seat and looked out the window. It was a cute boy, so what? I knew what boys were like and I knew what psychopaths were like, and trust me, there is nothing worse than getting mixed up with a psychopath boy. The mood in the room had shifted after he arrived, but I tried to ignore it while I got back into zone mode. I stopped, however, when I noticed my reflection in the window. My short, white-blond hair was cropped right above my chin. I was never able to stand having long hair, because of my hair's color. When you have long and abnormally pale hair, people tend to fuss over it and touch it. It's not exactly a pleasant feeling, being 10 and having overweight strangers approach you and your mother at the grocery store, only to comb their chubby fingers through your hair roughly and shout "Well don't cha' jus' look like a lil' Barbie doll!"

I shuddered at the repressed memories while I studied my own eyes. They were a light shade of blue. I hated people with light eyes. They seemed so much more shifty and untrustworthy than people with dark eyes. I tilted my head slightly as I realized how true the stereotype was for myself. My thoughts drifted to the eyes of the boy sitting in the back of the classroom. I shifted my shoulder a little bit and looked at the reflection. I could see the headbanger and his greasy obese friend. Studying a few seats over from them, I was confused when I saw the chair the boy had been in was empty. I turned from the window and looked over my shoulder. That was impossible. There he sat, tapping his fingers nervously on the surface of the desk. But he hadn't been in the reflection. I looked back and forth, double and triple-checking. Still, there was nothing.

My mouth dropped open as I thought my neck might snap from all of the head turning I was doing. I snatched my bag off of the floor and dug through it until I found my compact. I sat up straight in my seat and took a deep breath. I clicked it open slowly, pretending to muss my hair while I slowly turned it's angle. First headbanger came into view, then greasy. Pressing my lips together tightly, I turned it until his empty seat stared back at me. My brow furrowed in disbelief, my head whipping around once more to check and make sure he was there. He was there alright, and staring right at me.

My eyebrows were still knitted together while my mouth hung open. I felt paralyzed as he stared at me with a look of pure shock. The air left my lungs with a 'whoosh' as our eyes locked. What was his deal? Why was I getting that look? Was it a crime to spy on someone? It's not like lack of a reflection isn't a good reason to or anything. I pulled my head back warily and mouthed the words 'what the fuck?' at him.

He stood up so quickly that I almost couldn't believe he didn't flip the desk over. Grabbing his backpack off of the floor, he strode to the front of the room in a matter of seconds. He leaned over to whisper something to Sister Jane. She nodded, and with that he turned and strode out of the room.

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As the rest of us made our way to the parking lot after detention, I found myself walking behind the brunettes. I was interested, actually, when I discovered that their conversation was about the boy.

"It was his first day here. He came into my bio class and was acting all freaked out. He kept glancing at that giant cross Sister Harriet keeps by the blackboard."

"What a weirdo!"

"That's not even the worst part, I know why he got detention. We were getting ready to go to lunch, and right when we started to say our prayers he totally freaked out!"

I wanted to hear more, such as what her definition of 'freaked out' was, but I had to walk in a different direction from them. Images of the boy's face when I turned around played through my head while I made my way to the student parking lot. Maybe he was one of those Atheists or Devil-Worshippers. The thought made me laugh as I unlocked my old rusted truck. It was large and looked like it had survived it's fair share of wars, but it was my baby nonetheless. I groaned as she roared to life and I caught sight of the sky through my windshield. It had already turned a light-purplish color. The most recent time change meant that the sky was already darkening when detention ended. I pulled out of my parking spot while trying to flip through the radio stations with one hand on wheel.

I almost had a heart attack when a small black sports car cut me off, pulling out of it's space. "Jesus!" I shouted, slamming on the brakes. My heart was hammering in my chest while I let my head hang, pressing my forehead against the top of my steering wheel. After a few seconds I contorted my face into a look of pure rage, lifting my head slowly and hoping to strike fear into the heart of whichever bastard almost caused me to wreck. While the boy from earlier didn't appear to have fear struck into his heart at the sight of me, he didn't look too happy to see me either. I stared at him in his rearview mirror, my face shifting into one of disbelief.

"You!" I mouthed, watching him frown in the mirror. He looked back at the road and took off, leaving me sitting in the parking lot with my mouth still hanging open.