Rachel Summers : Author


Hating Him by Rachel Summers

I hate him. I watch him strum the strings with such elegance, playing the perfect tune that makes me want to hum, and I hate him more. She sways slowly to his rhythm, and is smiling as I grimace. It makes me want to hate her too, but I can't.

My stomach twists and I feel like I want to throw up but I can't as they kiss. I know that they forgot my existence, they're watching Romeo and Juliet and I'm watching them. I hate him even more, because even though I think that she thinks I'm not in the room, he must know I'm there. He's just that way, he's just that evil.

My hate burns as my dry throat and my sudden buoyancy makes me leave the room. They don't notice my footsteps as I leave, not looking back. I could almost hate her too because of it, but I don't. I can't.

I open the freezer in the kitchen and take the food out of it, and make at least three trips from the kitchen to his room, dumping all the food on his bed. Then, I stick my head in the freezer. It's a very unhealthy habit, and I've been doing it as long as I remember.

The cool air from the freezer doesn't even tame the burning in my throat and stomach, and I just feel sick. I wish that I could be somewhere else, and I wish that I could do something. I hate him even more because I'm so powerless.

I've disliked him for as long as I could remember, but I've never hated him this much. Not to the point of pretending things are his face when you kick them, and the mirror is him when you scowl at it. I don't know how he managed to make my life miserable. I don't know how he managed to control me. I don't know when I lost my own will and when he took my personality from me, replacing it with this thing.

They look awful together too. Horrible. Not really. They look good together and I hate him more for that, and I know it isn't his fault. He's her height, when she's wearing heels. And she's always wearing heels when she dances. So the result is she dances with him.

It doesn't make sense to me. She says that she dwarfs me in heels, and that's why she won't dance with me. It's true but I hate that. He's just perfect, but I'm too short. I hate him for that too. It's scary that I hate him for my genetic makeup.

My face starts to go numb as the air from the freezer frosts around my head. I hate him for that, too. I'm not a rational thinker. I know that none of these things are his fault but I still blame him on him. I must fall asleep with my head in the freezer, because I remember darkness, then I'm snapped awake.

"Hey, would you mind taking your head out the freezer for a moment? I'd like the food to go in there." He asks with a grin. I hate his grin. I glare at him and move back so he can put the frozen food back in there. "And it wasn't nice to dump all this stuff on my bed."

I glare at him again and realize that my face hurts. And I know why, too. Sticking your head in the freezer for over thirty minutes hurts. I just hope that the muscles in my face aren't frozen. Frostbite on the face isn't a good thing.

"If everyone stuck their heads in freezers when they were upset, there would be no more room for the food. The problem is that there aren't enough freezers to go around." He continued. I glare at him harder. My teeth start to chatter. She walks up behind me.

"Were you sticking your head in freezers again?" She asks.

"Yeah." I say reluctantly through my chattering teeth.

"The movie's over." She says. "Zach was going to drive me home. See you later." She waves and leaves. He follows behind her. As soon as they are gone I dump the frozen food back on his bed and stick my head in the freezer again. I'm obviously a basket case. He isn't. And I hate him for that, too.

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