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Nicole didn't know how to handle emotions --- especially not her own.
Usually she just sort of ignored them or turned them into anger. But who was she supposed to be mad at here? Herself? Fuck no.
Her feet, still bare and pressed against the cold wooden floor, trudged to Jecka's room that day. She knocked on the door. "Hey, Jeckaaa," she drew it out, trying to sound innocent as possible. "C'mon, man, we gotta talk. You know I didn't mean it. I mean, I do fucked up shit all the time, right?" She spoke through the shut door. No reply. She continued, "Don't be such a bitch about it. Come on." Silence still.
She groaned and twisted the doorknob, pushing the white door open and stepping into the pink-decorated room where she had drunkenly hung out with her best friend various times (though Nicole's house was the more common hangout spot).
"Jecka, come on," she said casually, eyes travelling around the room before, finally, landing on the bed. And Jessica.
"Jecka?"
And what would you do?
She was just there, sprawled out on the bed, nothing behind her glassy eyes, wearing a bra and her shorts.
"Jecka, oh my God!" Nicole yelled, panic seeping in. She ran to the bedside and shook her by the shoulders. She wasn't freezing yet, but she certainly wasn't warm.
Blonde hair fanned out over the pillows; her mouth was slightly agape, a couple pills still sitting under her tongue. And orange bottle --- one Nicole didn't bother to read --- was spilled by her forehead, two thirds of the bottle gone due to obvious reason. There were cuts on her wrists, still bleeding. They weren't very deep. They seemed like she had tried to bleed out first before pussy-ing out and deciding pills were the way to go.
"Jecka, you bitch, this is SUCH an overreaction!" She pressed her ear to Jecka's chest. Nothing. "You are SUCH a bitch, oh my God!" She panicked, breathing uneasily. Her hands trembled, but still she grabbed her flip phone and keyed in "911."
She was dead.
That was it.
Nicole went home that day to familiar atmosphere, but still it felt different. The air seemed colder. Her brother's idiotic screaming felt muffled. Her mother's romcom on the TV seemed to be on mute.
"Nicole," Carol, her mother, tried. Nicole didn't acknowledge that slut. She trudged to her room.
She sat on the unmade bed, the same bed Jecka had sat on while she "jokingly" flirted with Nicole and popped out another cigarette to light.
The brunette sighed loudly as if someone was there to see. She crossed her legs and looked around the tiny room. Again, it was the same as always. But now it was odd.
"Nicole's fault."
It was ALWAYS Nicole's fucking fault.
She didn't know why her dad did it. Why he killed himself. But it was HER fucking fault apparently. But this time she knew what she did. She took too much, cared too little. And for what? Three hundred bucks from some old man?
She kicked her shoes off and lay down. "Fucking bitch," she muttered to no one.
Carol opened the door. "Nicole. Sweetie. I know it's rough, but--" Nicole tuned her out then. It was all static.
And suddenly she was in school. She was gossiping with Jecka at the lunch table. She was sticking gum in Jeffery's hair and giggling with her best friend. The only friend she could manage to keep.
Suddenly she was on that very bed, but now it was early evening. She had a beer in her hand, sipping tentatively. "Nasty," she groaned.
Jecka was at the foot of the bed too. "Nicole," she sighed. "You can just not drink it if you don't like it."
"I know that."
Jecka rolled her eyes. "You do it to yourself." She pulled herself onto her knees. "D'you cut yourself again?" She scrutinized, cocking her head and furrowing her brows. She was glaring at Nicole's wrist. It was only a couple cat scratches, but still.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was bored." Nicole took another sip.
Jecka sat in silence for a moment, lips pursed. She spoke finally, softly, "Nicole. Can I be corny?"
"No."
"Fuck you. I'm here for you." She sighed. "I know you don't want me to, but I do care."
"Okay." Nicole raised a brow and snorted. "Thanks for the input." She sat up with a groan. "You wanna go throw eggs at the mall cop? We can probably get there before they close."
And now here Nicole was.
There were probably two people who actually gave a shit about her.
"Honey?"
There was her father. And somehow, he was dead. Nicole tried to tell herself he was murdered, but how? And who?
Now there was Jessica. Jecka. She was cool. She cared. Nicole cared too. And now she was dead too, and once again, it was NICOLE'S FAULT.
If there is a God, He had something against Nicole. Maybe He did keep watch over teen girls. Maybe He HATED teen girls.
Maybe it was just Nicole.
"Nicole?"
Nicole would see them both soon. And no one would be left to mourn her.
She thought back to one of her old suicide notes, one she wrote way back when, back when she dated that redhead bitch. "See ya soon, Dad."
At least this time she had no reason to stay.
The door shut. Nicole's eyes flickered to her drawer where she kept her mother's medicine that she stole.