Ignite

“Molly is such a slut,” one of them said. “I don’t know what she gets out of dancing on top of counters like that with her cunt flashed to the world.”

“She’s an attention seeker,” said the second girl that had a voice I thought I recognized.

“Well, she’s gotten all the attention she could get. Still wasn’t half as much as that chick Jaxon came strolling in with.”

I looked up from the phone and at the crease of the door where I could make out the two girls standing in front of the sinks doing their make up in front of the mirrors.

“I wonder how long he’ll fuck her before he tosses her aside,” she continued. “Wasn’t like him to go all ape shit with all the other guys. Why are you all quiet, Jade?”

I looked over at the second girl, dressed in a red mini-dress that matched her red flaming hair. My chest went tight. Jade?

“That was Sara,” Jade said, leaning into the mirror. “They used to be together. Seems like they’re back on or something.”

The first girl snorted. “What the fuck ever! You and I both know he can’t keep it in his pants. Poor girl’s going to get a rude awakening, especially when I see him tonight. She’ll watch him melt into me like he always does.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“He doesn’t come back for seconds, Nicole,” Jade replied. “Except for Christy, but even that lasted, like, ten days. That had to be his record.”

“He’s fucked every girl in the bar. He’s out of options. He’ll come back.”

“Doubt it. Time to move onto someone else. Sara’s good for him.” Jade, defending me? Huh.

“But he was the best fuck of my life. You gotta give him that much credit, right?”

Jade laughed. “He was good. I’ll give him that.”

“And that girl isn’t half as pretty as me. She’s walking around in, like, hobo jeans and that ugly ass top. Come on. It’s a no brainer. She’ll be out before the night ends.”

The Sara I’d turned into the last few years would have shrunk into the back of the toilet stall, let them have their dirty say regarding things they had no business about. She would have been passive, allowed the hate to be aimed at her, allowed the words to sting her, and she would have shut her mouth and accepted it. She’d have let them continue to demean her and make fun of her, and she would have waited until they left the restroom before she got out. Then she’d have felt sorry for herself, pitied her existence and hated how weak she was.

That was the me that batted nobody an eye so that all attention was centred somewhere else. Attention was a temptation that might have brought back old feelings of the negative sides of me. The sides of me that got irrationally angry and violent. I wanted to be the old me minus those negative sides. I suddenly realized there was nothing stopping me.

I stood up and opened the unlocked stall door. The noise of the rusted metal scraping against itself stopped their conversation. When the door opened, both of their heads were already turned to me. I looked at the blonde bitch who was supposedly prettier than me. Loaded with caked up make-up and hairspray, I concluded that she most definitely was not.

Then I turned my gaze to Jade. Yep, looking at the splash of freckles and the roundness of her face, this was indeed Jade Smith, my grade school bully. She’d left me alone after Jaxon had turned his sights on her and given her the same treatment she’d placed on me. After that year of bullying he stopped, and she never spoke to me again. We attended different high schools and only occasionally bumped into the same social circles growing up, but we never said a word to each other.

She looked more shocked than her friend, with her big brown eyes practically leaping out of her face. I thought she was frightened the way her lips quivered and opened as if to say something – what, an apology perhaps? – before shutting them again.

“I wonder what you could possibly try to achieve by talking about shit you have no idea about,” I started, staring at them both in equal measures. I kept my voice calm and still, but resolute enough to cause them to stiffen in the unpredictability of the situation. “Does it make you feel better? Does it make you feel happy that you spout bullshit – as if to compensate for your own fucking insecurity? Like fucking children standing there, mouthing me off like you know anything about me, or about him. So you fucked him once and he doesn’t want you anymore – now you have to turn your sights on me and degrade my character that you know pathetically nothing about? You fucking make me sick.” I stared long and hard at the blonde now, turning my complete attention to her. “Get some dignity. Wash your fucking face and start dressing your fucking age.”

Anger clouded her face, drowning out its former surprise.

“Did I say something to upset you?” I challenged with a raise of my brows. I hardened my voice. “If so, open your fucking mouth and say it to my face.” I waited with bated breath for her to speak. She wouldn’t.

“Grow the fuck up,” was my last line before I turned away and stormed out of there.

My adrenaline was high and my legs were charged with energy. I hurried back to the door where Damien was still standing. I didn’t look at him as I sat back down on the chair and brought both hands together. I was angry, but not at one particular thing. I drowned out my thoughts by closing my eyes and counting from one to a hundred. I remember my therapist once telling me that distraction was key to reigning down the intensity of my anger. My mind was trying hard to stew over every fucking thought that wanted to be analysed – and I knew it would make my anger worse, so I counted away, squelching that need that stuck out like a fork in a road in the back of my mind.

I don’t know how long I sat there, eyes closed, counting away. All I know is I’d counted to a hundred half a dozen times when a hand rested on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at Jaxon’s concerned face. My internal-self screamed at him because he was the reason I was like this, but my outer-self smiled warmly up at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand out to me.

No. “No,” I answered, surprised by my admittance.

He didn’t look surprised. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

I grabbed his hand and let him steer me out of the bar. Feeling the warmth of his skin against my own helped enormously. My heart was still battering against my chest, but the anger was on standby. The counting had done wonders, thank fuck.