DIVIDE Tour Stop

Divide
By Jessa Russo

Excerpt: My eyes had started to change, the blue of my irises slowly seeping away. Only slightly, but enough that I could see the transformation. They were dull, grayer in color than they used to be. Surely, if anyone noticed, they’d probably just attribute the change to my depression.

I knew differently. Something wrong lived inside me, something that wasn’t fully me. Something foreign. Though, what it was, I had no idea.

The main bathroom door opened with a swoosh, followed by the loud thumping of heavy footsteps. I heard each stall door open with the bang of a fist against the metal door, and a swoosh-clank as each door flew inward and slammed against the toilet paper dispenser. One by one, the doors opened as the person made their way to me.

Bang

Swoosh

Clank

Repeat

When the cacophony stopped, black boots—with flat soles that had to have been a good five inches tall—parked right outside my stall. Squatting, with both feet up on the lid of the toilet seat, whoever stood there couldn’t see me. But the previous nine stall doors slamming open were plenty indication of what to expect next.

I climbed off the toilet lid and stood, unwilling to be caught off guard, even though I absolutely already was. I waited.

She cleared her throat.

Screw this. I wiped my tears from my cheeks. Like you own the place, I reminded myself. I opened the door and took a step back so I could see this psycho chick, whoever she was.

“Hey, Holland, right? I’m Rosemarie Stevenson. I’m new here.”