by Sarah Harvey
Looking back now, I am sure that my feelings towards Claire were quite misplaced and unreal; I looked upon the world with such narrow eyes. She was just so incredibly confident and talented that I could have cried, even though she concerned herself with superficial and frivolous issues. She created her own self-styled biosphere, and chose to let the world orbit aimlessly around her seemingly sophisticated life. I refused to show any bitterness towards her though, and what I saw of her ‘perfect’ world was what I accepted.
Looking back now, I am sure that my feelings towards Claire were quite misplaced and unreal; I looked upon the world with such narrow eyes. She was just so incredibly confident and talented that I could have cried, even though she concerned herself with superficial and frivolous issues. She created her own self-styled biosphere, and chose to let the world orbit aimlessly around her seemingly sophisticated life. I refused to show any bitterness towards her though, and what I saw of her ‘perfect’ world was what I accepted.
I suppose I became most aware of her true presence at our school
formal that year. All the girls lashed out on the latest lipsticks, nail
polish, hair and clothing accessories; the guys agonised over whether to
‘colour co-ordinate’ their tuxedos with their partners’ dresses, and to make
sure the aftershave they chose wasn't too flammable next to a naked flame.
‘Did he ask you? Did he?!’
‘Oh my God, I can’t believe
he asked her...’
The evening started off slowly, with brilliantly-coloured strobe
lights blinding us all from every direction. A constant glow of luminous eyes blazed
in a multi-coloured kaleidoscope of hues, and I was happily lost in the rhythmic
sea of dancing corpses that bobbed around me. I felt security and protection
that night; my friends around me, the high ceilings of the old school hall that
engulfed us, and the towering iron gates that wrapped themselves around the
school grounds... The safety of knowing we were all in a ‘perfect’ world.
Ironically, I had not seen Claire at all that night. For the
sake of my own self-image though, it was probably better that I hadn't seen her
– I was number one, I was the centre of attention, and I was having a ‘perfect’
time.
During the course of the night I occasionally left the
electrically-charged dance floor to search for the nearest bathroom, which
always seemed so far away at the most critical moment.
I blundered out of the hall with my friends in side-splitting
fits of laughter, as we shared secrets of the night.
‘Ohhhh, so he did ask
you!’
But at around 10pm, I made my way to the bathroom on my own.
The air smelt so pure and fresh outside; a brisk breeze murmured
softly through my long black dress, and I shuddered from the cool presence of
the wind. As I reached the bathroom, I was suddenly aware of a distinct smell
that was vaguely familiar... A sickeningly foul stench threatened the night air
as a wave of emptiness swept over my body, but I shrugged off the feeling and
proceeded into the bathroom.
I stood and looked in the cracked mirror; the image was
distorted, ugly and scarred. A numb sensation ripped through my core, as the
cold razor pricked my snow-white skin. I lent against the sink to steady my
balance and watched the colour of my ‘perfect’ world drip slowly down the
drain. I couldn’t stop my legs crumple beneath me and a blood-curdling scream
bounced off the slippery crimson walls and echoed out into the clear, ebony
night.
I don’t know why my head hit on blood-coloured walls so hard
before I struck the cold, tiled floor.
I don’t know why hoards of people soon flooded out of the hall
and into the bathroom just to stand over me with their dull, vacant eyes.
I don’t know why they shook my listless body and yelled:
‘Claire, Claire! Can you hear me Claire..?’
I don’t know why it happened the way it did. I don’t know why I
wanted to destroy such a perfect world.
I never asked her.
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