Chapter 4

  The week passed like a blur. I spent my lunches and recesses either in the library to read, down in the courtyard to stare at random people or crowded in a tiny bathroom stall to use my phone. The only eventful thing that even happened to me was some kid bumping into me while I was walking down the stairs.

  What I was most thankful of is that I didn't really talk to that girl, Selena, either all week. I had actually found her name while flipping through a yearbook lying somewhere on a shelf in the library, but that's besides the point. I was glad I didn't really interact with her much—even though we shared the same classes, we were never put into the same groups and she never really talked to the people in our homeroom more than she needed too.

  Even though I didn't talk, I sat next to people who did, and from the crumbs of information I was able to gather, I knew a lot more about Selena now. She definitely had some type of protagonist syndrome though. It was like the whole room gravitated towards her.

  All the boys whispered about her as she passed, talking in hushed voices about her looks. The girls did too, but mostly because they envied the attention she was given and the fact that she also never reacted—her face always set in either a scowl or emotionless mask.

  During fourth period on Wednesday as students were filtering out of math, I had actually witnessed a girl come up to Selena—a short brunette with round glasses—and she had casually asked if she wanted to come with her to eat at lunch. I expected her to say yes or at least kindly decline, but she just sat there, eyes never leaving the notes she was writing. I didn't really hear what she snapped back at the poor girl but whatever she said made her run out crying.

  Sheesh…

  At least she wasn't too mad at me… Or maybe she is and is just biding her time… Whatever though, as long as I didn't bump into her again my organs would be safe for the time being.

  The test went fine, and I could've just gone in without studying actually. I was able to finish so early I triple checked my work and still had 20 minutes left on the clock. Every question seemed easy to me as it was just stuff ripped straight out of the textbook; I was sure I got everything right.

  And now, before I even knew it, it was already the weekend.

  Laying in my apartment, I grimaced at the depressing state of it all.

  Plain hardwood floors that still reeked of strong varnish, a sad little kitchenette with two burners and a beat-up fridge tucked in a corner of the studio, yellowed walls that were probably white a decade ago with small patches of paint and plaster dotted along them from the recent landlord special they were probably given before I had moved in, and a bathroom so cramped you could probably take a dump, shower, wash your hands and brush your teeth at the same time.

  I wondered why the landlord couldn't even bother to re-paint the walls while he patched up all the holes as I traced the teardrop-shape of a disgustingly brown stain that ran down the drywall with my eyes. Flopping my head back down onto my futon, I was then reminded of the fact I still needed a job as I could practically feel the panels of wood beneath me through the actual threads I was sleeping on.

  Reaching for my bag, I took out my laptop and began the grueling search for jobs near me that required little to no experience.

  This was going to be fun...

  After an hour of opening and closing tabs and searching up application after application, I had only found about two jobs that didn't require any prior job experience or a high school degree or any other certificates of higher education—one at an animal shelter and one at the local convenience store I had met Selena at—and submitted my hastily put-together resume to both of them, I felt exhausted.

  Laying back down, I started thinking of the things I would need to do now that I had my own apartment. I still needed more groceries and food, as well as some silverware and dishes and definitely some new toiletries.

  Sighing, I resigned myself to doing those things now as I would just put them off forever if I didn't.

  Slipping on my jacket and putting on my shoes, I grabbed my keys from where they lay on my desk and left my apartment. Closing the door behind me softly, I thanked the heavens that the elevator was now fixed and waited for the numbers to descend down to my floor.

  Stepping in and lightly pressing the ground floor button, I pressed myself into a corner of the elevator. I could feel the light breeze coming from the seams of the metal box as the elevator descended and the doors opened with a light ding.

  Squinting at the bright light filtering in through the glass doors of the empty lobby, lifting my hand over my eyes to shield them from the evening light. Stepping out onto the hard pavement, I took out my phone and looked for the nearest superstore. Shoes tapping lightly on the ground as I walked, I mentally prepared myself for the instant draining of my bank account.

  By now, the warm glow of the evening had shifted to a soft purplish hue, streaked with pinks and deep blues.

  Walking to the superstore took longer and more effort than I really expected.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I should really exercise more...

  The streets here were even cleaner than the ones back home—devoid of trash, homeless people, etc.. They were wider too, the pavement less cracked, but I never really got to go out much, so I didn't really have much of an image to base off of.

  People passed by me, looking through me like a leaf in the wind—their eyes raking through me like the breeze whistling through the buildings.

  Teenagers about my age walking around in packs, exchanging laughter and snide comments. Old couples lounging on benches, savouring their last years. Adults ranging from young graduates to depressed looking salarymen streamed past as well. So many more people I had ever seen in years.

  I watched them without really seeing them, their laughter something that was foreign to me, shaped by years of silence. To me they seemed more like characters in the many gacha games I played, living perfect lives I didn't have the right to participate in. All I could hope for was to just be another fleeting prop in their stories, and I was just content with watching from afar, living through the experiences of other people. It was better than putting myself out there and causing more trouble, becoming a bigger burden than necessary.

  It was strange, really strange. I knew I was lonely, but I wasn't really lonely in a normal way. Like, in the way that people wrote about in stories and articles or pictured in documentaries. In books and novels, the character would be consumed by loneliness, grasping for attention, acting like a kicked puppy; the feeling swallowing them up whole, consuming their being. But loneliness, for me, was more like just an annoying buzz in my ear. A constant humming background noise that reminded me unobtrusively that I was better off by myself. A feeling so familiar I barely noticed it at all. Being alone was just natural for me, and I guess I liked it that way. It gave me a sense of comfort, that even though I was lonely I still had my thoughts and lonesome.

  Just like now.

  I stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the blinking stop-lights to change. A group of giggling girls about my age stood a few metres away. Loudly comparing items they’d bought together and arguing intensely about something I couldn't catch as the wind blew their words across the darkening sky.

  After listening to the faint snippets of their animated conversation, the flow of traffic finally slowed, the small silhouette of a walking man illuminated in bright white light. Crossing the road behind them, I watched as one girl nudged another lagging behind lightly with her elbow, laughter bubbling up louder now as the whole group started talking together now.

  I stilled for a second, wondering distantly what it would feel like to have friends like that. To be nudged like that so casually, thoughtlessly, effortlessly. To be included like you belonged and would still matter if you changed.

  Shaken out of my thoughts by a loud honk of an angry driver, I quickly sped up. By the time I reached the other side, they had already drifted ahead, the warmth they brought with them drifting away too.

  But now was not the time to worry about frivolous things like that.

  Inside, the store was bright, filled with the beeping of registers and the screeching of cart wheels on cheap tile. It hurt my eyes and ears a little. Rows upon rows of shelves stacked with items and crowded with busy people wheeling shopping carts and holding baskets filled to the brim with stuff greeted me as I passed through the scanners.

  Back when I was just a lollipop-licking kid, my mom would exclusively stay home and my father was often out working or doing other things I never really bothered to learn about. Thus, my mother would usually order take-out or online groceries that cut out huge sums of money out of our already strained bank account—taking blow after blow from my father's drinking as well. The only times I would really go outside were to go to preschool and I had never really been inside a store at all. When I moved in with my step-family, my meals always came to me at my door and I wasn't allowed to go outside much. And then when I moved to boarding school, I wasn't even allowed to go outside, even if I wanted to I didn't really have a choice as doing so would get me expelled.

  Well sure, I had seen stores this big before in media, I knew how they worked, I wasn't entirely stupid—but the only stores I had ever gone to were small convenience stores and quaint book shops. I had never really bore witness to a massive superstore before.

  Struggling to remember the things I needed again, I tried looking around. Wandering the isles that seemed endless, picking up and putting down items again, idly placing things I thought I needed into a basket I had grabbed somewhere along the way.

  After 30 minutes I had selected everything I really needed and could afford. A pack of microwave dumplings, some eggs, a bottle of hand soap, a single lone plate from the discount shelves, a pack of disposable utensils, a new toothbrush and some 2 in 1 bodywash and shampoo.

  At checkout, the cashier barely looked at me, the bright lights hanging above casting a long shadow across her face, accentuating her deep eyebags. I shuddered at the thought of what having a job would do to me in the future as I tapped my card, collected my items, took my receipt and left the massive store.

  The sky had already faded to black outside, the streetlights turning on one by one. Glancing up, I noticed not even a single light could be seen in its inky depths other than the occasional plane passing by. Contrasting below that though, the city had started to light up. Buildings shone and glittered with fluorescent light as it seemed more people were bustling about now.

  The elevator ride up was quiet.

  I looked at myself for a long moment in the reflection of the worn metal doors.

  I was a fourteen year old girl who looked more like she was twelve, alone in another country I had never been too, living off money sent by people acted who like they didn't care about me, going to a school where no one really knew me, where no one spoke to me for more than five minutes, where I was alone.

  And yet, I didn't really feel as alone as I used to.

  The thought unsettled me again.

  Now inside my shoe-box of an apartment, I set the bag down near my table, deciding to deal with them tomorrow when I woke up. I plopped down on my futon and stared at the wall again.

  I thought about the chaotic girl from lunch on Monday. I thought about her big smile and the way she’d asked me to join her like I was someone she had known for years and not some socially awkward freak she'd never met. I thought about Selena as well. I thought about how she glared at me like I cursed her bloodline. I thought about how she was always surrounded, showered with attention, yet she was separate from all of it, uncaring and apathetic.

  Being alone wasn’t new to me.

  I had been alone for my whole life, yet somehow, I still felt less alone. And the more I thought about it, the more I came to realise maybe I could enjoy being less alone, and maybe, being noticed didn't feel as bad.

  it makes me happy when i see the view count up (even though the likes dont thats perfectly fine with me bc at least i enjoy writing it and my chud friends still like reading cuz i force them to #copiumaddict)

  Chapter notes:

  boo boo tomato tomato

  tried to emphasise the loneliness idk bro wtf u asking me for its not like I'm the author or whatever

  Wanted to give you a glimpse of her isolation as a young girl, and how she's shifting into being more surrounded by people and new places than usual.

  Tidbit; Mai calls her step-father her dad, even though he isn't really, and he's never seen her as his daughter. She refers to her estranged step-family very tenderly and never commonly calls them anything that would infer that they're not related. This is because she desperately wants them to be her "real family" thus instinctively refers to them as such, hoping that in the end that lie might come true. She never really realizes this though as it is something subconscious she does; naturally using less formal language.