Clarity
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Clarity free porn video
[If you don't care about character development and/or do not want to read violent scenes, skip until you see [Dream Over]. Disclaimer: it's a fairly dark intro.]
The first thing I heard was music.
It was a classical piece I couldn't recognize off the top of my head. I thought I had heard it before, but it sounded very pleasant in the background, so I chose to ignore it. I couldn't place the event for the life of me. It was a presumably prestigious event, as every person I saw was dressed in a fancy dress or tuxedo, with high heels and dress shoes to match. I found myself wearing a similar outfit, sipping away at a champagne glass, as I tried to identify my surroundings. I knew no one, knew nothing of my location, and knew there was no way I would be able to fit in with the crowd this event presented. I was wondering how I was going to get out of this uncomfortable situation when I saw her. Ella.
Ella was, in my eyes, perfect. She had a stunning, glittery, black dress on which contrasted well with her silky white skin. She had her blonde hair flowing freely with her blue-green eyes sparkling in the light, her 5'6" figure just barely being able to see in the wave of people surrounding her. It was an amazing sight for me, and while I didn't remember much of the context around what I was doing, I did know that having her with me would make this night a lot more bearable. She saw me out of the corner of her eye, ended off the conversation she was in, and walked over to me.
"Care to dance," she asked with a smirk.
I closed my mouth quickly and replied back, "gladly".
And so we danced, giggling at our own jokes, sharing banter with one another, and having as much fun as we could in this situation. Things may not have been ideal at first, but they were perfect for me now. Yet slowly and slowly, her enthusiasm started to dwindle away.
After about 10 minutes, I was starting to grow a little concern. "What's wrong," I had asked.
She simply shook it off. "I'm just feeling a little tired," she said. "Nothing's really wrong, just need a break for a bit."
I laughed it off as well. "Boy, don't we all."
However, as time went on and on, she grew less and less enthusiastic. She started avoiding eye contact, as her eyes grew bags underneath them. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail after a little while, she stopped eating the food at the event entirely, and eventually went to go into a corner and look overwhelmed. Her excuses became less and less believable, "I'm fine, nothing's wrong. Really, I'm fine. I just thought I would look better like this. No, I'm not hungry, I had dinner before I came here. Really, I'm fine." The last few times I had asked, however, she didn't respond.
"Ella? Ella, are you okay? Ella...?"
She simply sat in the corner of a room, looking straight at the wall in front of her, unmoving, unresponsive. I turned her around, and she had a blank, vacant look in her eyes. I was starting to panic, as I thought she might be having a heart attack or something to that effect, and that's when I looked down.
Her ankles. Oh God, her ankles were slashed. There were so many cuts on them I couldn't count them all. Most were open, with blood pooling around her as she still did not respond. I tried to ask why, but the question died in my voice. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. Something was wrong, everything was wrong, she was just fine moments ago. One of the event attendees turned around and saw me.
I gazed back at him with my conscience in the back of my mind, before I recognized him. The face I previously couldn't identify turned out to be Jake, my old Kindergarten bully. I was too stunned to say anything, and slowly everyone turned to look at me. The blank faces in the crowd all turned into old and new enemies that I had encountered all throughout my life. The piano had stopped, and it was dead silent. I felt weak. I fell to my knees out of shock. Everyone took a note of me, pointed to me, and grinned maliciously. I could hear the voices again when they did that, and I couldn't tell if it was myself, or if they were speaking.
"I told you you would end up alone."
"This is why you should have killed yourself."
"What made you think I would have been your friend?"
"This is why I never approved of you and Ella."
"It was him, he did it!"
That one hit me like a brick. I bolted out of the room as quickly as I could, only to find myself in an all-too-familiar spot. My old house's kitchen, with someone on the floor praying to the man above her not to do it. I wanted to move, I wanted to act out, but I was glued to the scene. I couldn't look away as my morbid curiosity got the best of me. The man just laughed, and I heard a loud bang, and there she was, on the floor, not moving. The man looked at me, and he noticed me looking at him, and he grabbed me by the hair, and he pulled my head to match my eyes with his eyes, and he told me something I would never forget.
"Sometimes, when you don't listen, bad things happen."
I woke up with a sweat.
[Dream Over]
I bolted right up. My shirt was drenched in sweat, and I could hear my heart in my ears, beating a mile a minute. I looked over at my clock. [5:54 A.M]. I figured that's as close to a regular sleep schedule as I'm going to get.
I started my morning routine the way I usually did. I took a long shower, put on pants, ate a pack of Pop-Tarts, brushed my teeth, and headed off to school. As I left, I felt as if there was something missing. Yet I just sighed and moved toward the door. I knew exactly what was missing, and I also knew that it was long gone and never coming back.
A brief rundown of my school schedule: I had two English classes since I had failed to complete any of my work for the previous class. That's because I simply took a break from doing essays and had procrastinated getting them done, without ever getting them done. That means, of course, that I had failed my last class so badly that there was a 3 out of 40 on my portfolio, which is a collection of essays I've written over the years. This counted as a final exam grade for the class. I failed English that year with a 19 out of 100. I had a history class third period, and a Health class fourth period (which was essentially just a reason to tell kids to kindly not do heroin). I had a lunch break fifth period, which I had been spending with my English teachers trying to finish essays that were handed out back to back, and a math class sixth period. I played a lot of music, and I still do, so I took a form of band called Wind Ensemble, taking up my seventh period. Eighth and ninth period were taken up by my biology class, but on alternating days, I would have P.E. instead of a lab class.
I managed to make it up to fourth period sometime in March when I snapped.
I still don't know what prompted me to snap, but all of a sudden I stood up.
"What are you-," my teacher tried to ask. I interrupted him.
"I just can't take it anymore," I exclaimed. "I just can't deal with high school anymore!"
"You're just overexaggerating," he dismissed. "Please sit back down."
"Are you telling me that I'm learning something in high school?"
"Well yes, you're learning lots of important information. That's why you have to attend."
I laughed hard at that remark. I wanted to leave a lasting mark to show teachers what their classes were really teaching the students.
"Do you want to know what I've learned? I've learned to suppress my own thoughts, beliefs, and personality inside of a writing assignment and only focus on one person's opinion that I barely agree with at all. I've learned that scribbling with a fucking crayon makes a homework assignment look more presentable on why Napoleon was the best and worst thing to happen to France. I've learned that squares are rectangles and rhombi mixed together in a shape blender. I've learned that humans don't know shit about themselves and make all sorts of pointless fucking graphs to try and give themselves meaning. But you know what I've learned from you? I've learned that adults think they're infinitely better than children because 'our brains are 95% finished and yet still very underdeveloped', and how lyrics from a metal music video indicate that maybe something is wrong with the character in the video. All due respect, Mr. Triton, but kindly go fuck yourself."
With that, I walked out. I was stopped by security and told to go to the main office to speak with the assistant principal. I was told that I was incredibly disrespectful to a valued staff member. I told him I simply didn't care anymore.
"Well, why don't we get your parents on the phone, so you can tell them what happened yourself," my AP told me. That one made me flinch.
"What's the matter? Are you scared of telling your parents you told someone to go eff themselves," he taunted me. "Why don't I tell them myself?"
I never liked confronting the reality of the situation. The missing part of my brain that lingers in the back of my mind doesn't like being brought to the forefront. "My parents-," but that was all I got out before he interrupted me.
"Yeah, I'm sure your parents won't be very happy with you...", he trailed off. He had evidently loaded up my information page. I didn't want to look. If I looked, I would break down crying, and I wasn't about to let that happen.
"I'm so sorry-," he tried to tell me. I didn't listen. I hated the pitying and condescending tone that always accompanied the person finding out my parents were... I don't like to entertain that thought, to this day.
"I'll take a suspension. I just need a break."
He debated for a while before he decided what I should do.
"One week of out-of-school suspension. Go home, and think about what you've done."
I left the building, and decided to head home. With nothing to do for a week except for eating and sleeping... well, I shuddered to think about the latter.
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