The touch

How many hours did people spend sitting in a classroom, lying on a bed, standing in front of the mirror, wishing they were someone else? How many hours did they spend trying to push down their wishes, trying to forget their looks, wishing to escape? How many hours did they spend in a day, trying to run from their problems? Wishing to embody somebody they didn't know? Wishing to like other things, desiring to look different, hoping they and their problems will be lost once their brains run on another track?

Hours, and hours, and hours. That's how many.

Nyxie never let her guard down. She didn't like not knowing what was going on around her, or what other people were talking about. Her eyes usually stayed either on the teacher or the blackboard or the clock on the wall. This time, they were wandering somewhere outside the window, on a small squirrel running up a tree.

Did he know he was free? Did he know how lucky he was to get to go to wherever he wished? To be able to escape? Nyxie didn't think he did.

Her thoughts were on a completely different trail than the topic the whole class was talking about. She already knew everything about college and where she was going to live, so the chat was pointless if somebody asked her. The problem was the fact that nobody did.

She had seen the girl again. It had been the third time already, and she still had no idea what kind of person she was. None of her friends were thinking about their soulmates like this, in public, so she couldn't much understand why she was. There was an unhealthy obsession that shouldn't have formed, she thought. But then, who could forget such a beautiful girl?

Today had been the first time she saw her communicating with other people. The older girl had a beautiful smile and amazing brown eyes that gleamed in the sun, the light giving them a honey-colored glint. She seemed happy hanging out with two friends. She didn't look bothered at all.

But maybe she had when first dreaming of Nyxie? The blonde really hoped so. She didn't need to be the weird one out. Or... she had never dreamed of her at all.

The bell brought the girl out of her small bubble, and as everyone started leaving the class and shuffling around, she joined the people, frowning when she got caught up in between some group of friends.

After reaching her locker and grabbing the very last things from there, she left it a bit open and moved out of the school. Her mind was full of thoughts and strange feelings, but as she stepped out of the door, she smiled to herself and released a shaky breath. High school. She had done it. It was finished.

Tomorrow was going to be the graduation, and then she was free from it forever. And while it did feel a bit scary that she was an 'adult' now, she also couldn't hold the grin off her face.

"Nay! Over here!"

Her head whipped towards the source of the voice. It was one of her friends, Poppy. The girl waved her over, inviting her to ride a car with two guys, of who both were smirking at her. Nyxie looked towards the car her twin brothers were sitting in, with her dad driving, and breathed out sharply.

For once in her life, she made the right decision, knowing she should have gone home. "I can't!" she shouted to the girl who frowned immediately, not used to her saying no to anything she was offering. "Gotta go home! See you tomorrow."

Smiling to herself, Nyxie held her head low while walking to her family's car, and as she opened the door, the boys made her giggle immediately, eating takeout McDonald's—a tradition their father held every year on the very last day of school (that mom wasn't allowed to know about). They had it all over their lips and while that was gross, she suddenly loved them even more than before.

They were so authentic and purely themselves, and she envied that. She wanted to be herself for once and not to feel pressured by the society or the people surrounding her.

#

Her door didn't have a lock.

It was past midnight, the house was quiet, only a distant barking dog at her neighbors' house could be heard. Nyxie was incredibly anxious to do this, partly because she wasn't sure if her parents were asleep, and because she had just no idea how it was done. Never having been in bed with anyone except a few of her boyfriends who never made her feel good, the girl was inexperienced. It was always about them and not her.

That was why she had no idea what good felt like. She had never understood why everyone was so excited about sex or why did they make such a big deal out of it. So, she googled it. The internet told her to get to know her body and wishes, by pleasuring herself.

The girl had never felt the appeal to do anything remotely similar to masturbating. But, now as she was alone in her dimly lit room, everyone asleep, her fingers grazing over her own inner thigh, it felt nice.

She was slightly anxious about making too much noise or somebody walking in, but it was making her blood boil and heart thump faster and louder in her chest, which simply made it more exciting.

As her left hand slid up her thigh, the other one stroked her waist, eyes falling shut. It tickled her a bit, but it wasn't the kind that made her laugh and wouldn't allow to stop; it was similar to the feeling of somebody breathing into her ear, the sensation soft but pleasurable, making her hips buck up and goosebumps appear on her skin.

Finally, after some minutes, her hand slid into the black panties with a miniature frown present between her eyebrows. The girl touched herself, moving her fingers through her slit in a gentle way, and then when she didn't feel anything, a bit more rapidly, doing it over and over again.

Frowning to herself, she sighed in displeasure, understanding that wasn't working for her. So, she moved her other hand down to her crotch as well and found her clit. It was sensitive, making the blonde wince as she started circling it with her index finger and thumb. It made her feel weird, but soon she understood she didn't like it either, and found another motion for it, moving only one finger over the small bump, gently rocking it in a back-forth movement.

Now, this was working.

She kept moving it, her other hand gently grazing the bare skin on her stomach. After some minutes, it started getting boring, feeling weird and unpleasant, and she didn't want to do it anymore but knew there was supposed to be some kind of build-up and release that made her feel good.

The problem was that as she tried to reach that point of pleasure, for some reason her emotions took over and it was just painful to continue. With tears running down her cheeks, she shifted on the bed and pulled her hands away.

After about ten minutes, she tried again, but the result was similar to the first one. And after the third attempt, she felt sore but anxious and disappointed which made her dive into the internet again, trying to find out why none of it worked for her.

After she had thought about every possible reason of why it felt horrible touching herself, and why she wasn't like others, the girl didn't find any logical answers besides the fact that maybe something in her body didn't work as it should've. Her mind started thinking of that, but the sleep took over, the phone fell from her hands, and she snored away quietly, only squeezing in a few hours of sleep before her alarm blared on the bedside table.