School me p3 (page 21)

Reagan




Rage is said to come in blindfolded in a moment when one loses their ability to logic. As Sabastian stands in front of me, hands in his pocket I feel the rage, I feel my logic and sense of control slip.
My eyes must narrow, my body lunges forward as my fist meets his face. The pain is a welcoming agony as it shoot up my hand to my wrist. Sabastian doesn’t go down from my glorified punch, he retaliates with a fist to my gut, knocking the wind out of me, as I mimic his motion, and knee him in his stomach. He hunches and coughs and I go for a upper cut to his chin which he ducks and punches me solid in my sternum.

I tackle him to the floor and we are both going at it. Fist after fist, the copper taste in my mouth, swelling on my jaw, thumping in my head is a mind pleaser as Sabastian goes down and lays on the floor staring up at the sky, I follow suit. We are both quiet. Our rage not lessened by our fists but caged by our mind. 
Neither of us can say anything, the truth is out there now, it is part of us. When I see Dainy tomorrow it will be a constant roar in my mind. Sabastian Delroy, a close friend is in love with my girl, he considers her his. And even I can’t deny that the thought of him being right isn’t crushing me, it isn’t masking my love in dread. Dainy was his. 
“Out of all the shit we have gotten through, a girl is what it comes down to.” Sabastian groans after he says this. 

The sky is dark, the faint noise of music and peoples voices drift through the air, “I love her too.” I tell him, and though I have never admitted the words to Dainy or hinted at it , I am honest when I admit it to him.
“Yeah, I know.” We both quieten, laying there on the hard ground where we once shared an easy laugh and an even easier silence. Now, what were we. 

Comments and suggestions can be sent to shanaazk47@gmail.com 

 

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