It had to be about four thirty and the sun was still giving out its usual shine in this normal Friday noon. Normal for my sister, normal for my parents, normal for my high school friends, and normal for everyone else. After all, no one can really tell anything out of the ordinary in this town.
And of course, it had been a normal day at school. Nothing interesting ever happened at all. Nothing interesting that people knew off, anyways.
Setting my heavy book bag down on the floor, I checked that the door was closed and locked before turning to my window. The only window in my entire room. And I was thankful for it to be placed where it was. Walking towards it, I sat on the white plastic chair in front of it and stared right ahead. Right ahead, where my eyes met with another big window, belonging our neighbor's house. It was the window to Keira's room. And I could see everything that went on inside the little cave she called her room from my window.
Her room had never been anything out of the ordinary, except for the big amount of posters and pictures of beautiful, tall and slim models that were chaotically placed all over the walls. They were all different. Some had red hair, some had pink, some had brown, some had blond and some had black. Some had dark eyes and some had light blue ones. Some had dark skin, and some were as pale snow. Some were wearing long dresses, which in some way or another showed off their skin and perfect curves, and some wore less formal clothes. Some were walking down catwalks, some were posing, and some were caught off guard when their pictures were taken. But the one thing they all had in common:: they were all underweight or luckily had the perfect bodies. Im not so sure, but I think the original color of the walls is a light green. Her bed was always unmade and had magazines (Cosmopolitan, Teen People, Vogue, etc) spilling out from underneath it.
This is what everyone saw after they entered her room. Their first impression:: Shes just another normal messy teenage girl.
But that wasn't my impression. I never saw it as just a messy room. I saw it as a hell.
I knew about the things hidden under her bed and pillows.
And I knew the things she did in there after getting home from school.
Fridays were normal to everyone except for Keira and I. We both knew what made her Fridays and weekdays different. Only I knew why mine were so different.
I remember when she was 14. She was just so beautiful. Not the most beautiful thing on Earth, but she was beautiful. Dark brown curly hair that went down, passed her shoulders and reached her mid-back. She was of your average weight and height. Not tall;; not short. Not overweight;; not underweight. Her skin was pale. Very pale and she had a few freckles across her cheeks and the tip of her nose. And her eyes, I always said were her best feature. A very light tone of blue, like sky blue, mixed with a dark gray. They made her look mysterious, and even intimidating to some. But she never was. She was one of the nicest girls at school, if not the most.
That was her appearance when we were still friends. When we were best friends. Everyone knew about the two un-cool girls:: Keira Anniston and Ella Roswell. We were inseparable and secrets were never really secrets between us.
But then...things changed. Like they unfortunately always do.
The peer pressure was something I would never let in. Yet it was something that Keira opened her doors to.
She's just so different now. And the few times I talk to her now, she always says
"Things change, Ella. I changed. Now, you need to change."
But I never did. I would never want to be like her. To hide under layers after layers of makeup and fake smiles.
Now, she's just not as beautiful as she used to be. She's just pretty. Nothing more and nothing less.
She now straightened her curly hair every single day and it was now bleached a cherry blonde, instead of the original dark brown. Her skin had actually gained some color after attending to the beach with her new friends every weekend. Her freckles were hidden behind all of her makeup and then came her body...it was just depressing for me. I couldn't help but feel bad for her everyday after seeing the things she does from my bedroom window.
When we were still friends, she still had virgin lips, now it was impossible to tell how many boyfriends she has had.
And her sudden change happened when she was only fifteen years old. So young, and she wasted her life the way she did. Now, she's seventeen. Just as cruel and cold as she began acting towards me two years ago. I knew everything about her, except for the reason of the changes and decisions she made.
The door in her room flew open and just as the young girl entered the room, it flew back closed. She wasnt happy today. She was angry and frustrated. Anyone could tell by the way she screamed as she threw her little black book bag across her room.
She had been crying in the school bathroom earlier today. I had seen her as I walked into the bathroom, and she just glared at me. Her mascara was still a mess.
Her eyes looked smaller, irritated and red, as did her nose and cheeks. I was the only one that could ever tell her imperfections at school. Because I knew her natural self. I knew what the original Keira looked like. And these messed up versions of my best friend were hopeless in my eyes.
At first I would try and get her back. Now, I just felt pity for her. I felt so bad for her.
And no, Im not being sarcastic.
I quietly opened my window, so I could hear her. So I could hear why she was like this today. And as she threw her pillows to the floor, I discovered it was just her everyday battle.
She took her tape measure from where her pillows used to be and glided it around her waist, then, as she looked down to it, she let yet another scream escape her lips, and the tape measure fell to the floor from her shaking hands.
Her parents still weren't home, so they were never aware of the situation their daughter was going through. And even if I wanted to help her, I would always say that I'd wait for the day when she asked me for help. When it came from her heart and nerves to ask me to help her get trough and out of this.
She now had a white little plastic jar in hands, and quickly took its orange cap off, spilling a couple of teal colored pills on the palm of her still trembling hands.
She stared at them, and silent tears began to rain onto the oval shaped pills. Then, with the other hand she picked out one of them, and brought it up to her lips, and moving her head back, swallowed it. She did the same with another one, and another one, and another one, and another one. Making it a total of five pills down her throat.
She turned around, and looked at the reflection of the girl standing before her in her mirror.
Her fake blonde hair into a curled mess, no longer under the effects of the hair straightener. The curves she once had in her body, were gone, and she was now skinny and bonny. Her clothes no longer looked wonderful on her once perfect body. They now hung from her shoulders and hips, looking as if she wore her mother's clothes.
And yet, she still wasn't pleased. She still felt like she needed more, like she wasn't as pretty as...them.
In one swift movement, she turned back around, this time facing the walls. She stared into the pictures of those models in her walls for what seemed like forever, when it had only been like five minutes.
"GOD!!! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU ALL!!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs at the walls. At the perfect models, actresses and singers on her walls.
She began pounding hard on the walls, and scratching at the pictures. Her eyes closed, as she cried out a river and screamed uncontrollably.
And I wasn't there comforting her. I couldn't do anything but to stare at the image of the girl I used to call my best friend...destroying herself and everything around her.
Keira Anniston. She just wanted to look like those models. She didn't blame herself for giving in to the peer pressure. Instead, she blamed all those pretty models. She now hated their perfection. Their perfect skin, eyes, hair, their bodies, and most of all, she hated not looking like them. She despised not being like one of them.
Her voice began cracking from all her screaming, and her fists and fingertips were lightly bleeding from the hard contact with the walls. The walls were indeed a light tone of green. But now, it also had small stains of blood and little pieces of Keiras skin. She kept on scratching at the walls, ripping out the hundreds of pictures of those models and letting them fall to the floor.
She had lost it. She had lost all control, and she was exploding. Letting it all out the hard way.
And I just stared out my window, and into her room. Not saying a word, not moving once from my spot.
With the blink of an eye, things were even worse than they had been before.
The computer and TV were both thrown to the floor with a loud crash. The mirrors that once held the reflection of my old friend, Keira, were shattered into thousands of pieces. The bed sheets and mattress flew in all directions.
It was like madness. Like I said, she had lost it.
And I still wouldn't move an inch.
I wouldnt scream for her to stop, comfort her, ask if she needed any help, call her parents, no. I did nothing.
Nothing at all.
Just stare and feel bad for her.
And with one last piercing scream coming from poor Keira, it was over.
She stopped herself before anything else left could be destroyed, like her.
She just curled up into a little ball in her naked bed and rocked herself back and forth. Running her hands nervously and rapidly through her thick blonde hair, staining it with the blood from her fingers. And it was all silence. All with the exception of children laughing on the sunny streets, and my little sister singing along to a Hilary Duff song from her room down the hall. And Keira's loud sobs.
She had no one there. So she was the only one that could comfort herself. But she apparently failed as she suddenly stopped. She slowly stood up from her bed and looked towards the direction of her window, and into my own bedroom window. And her eyes met mine.
God, she had changed. But one thing remained the same. Like I had mentioned before, it was her best feature. Her eyes.
They held her every emotion. None of them being possitive.
In slow and scared steps, she stood up from her bed, and walked to her window, opening it with care, so her fingers and fists wouldn't hurt anymore.
And now...she stared at me. The same way I had been staring at her.
A minute passed. Five minutes passed. Half hour passed. A full hour passed. And neither of us did nothing but to stare at each other, blink, and breathe.
A single tear escaped from her eye and rolled down her cheek, soon enough falling to her oversized yellow blouse.
Her lips trembled as she slightly opened her mouth to take in a shaky deep breath, followed by a whisper
"Ella...help me."
Bubble Gum Pop
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