One moment, a crowd surrounds me with adoration... The next, I'm being laughed at, scoffed at, looked down upon. By one mistake that I'd stupidly made. Trust. I walk down the hall with my head low, trying hard to find the classroom. My safe haven. On the way to salvation, I bump into someone. I give them a curt apology and try to keep on going until my ears had the unfortunate displeasure of hearing a malice filled voice that sounded like Satan himself. Idiotically, look up into the face of the person I bumped carelessly into. Well, speaking of the devil, look who it is. Fuckboy #1 - Tyler Connor.
"Got somewhere to be, slut?" he mocks.
I ignore his insult and try to get around him. That worked about as well as bathing a cat. He got angry and pinned me to the first thing he could find, which unfortunately happened to be the lockers. My head slammed against the metal door, causing a unbearable pain I could feel all the way to my skull. I groaned and tried to gather enough strength to push his elbow off of my airway before I passed out. Did you know that wasn't a very good idea either? He pushed against my throat harder, despite my frantic gasps for air.
"Don't ever touch me, you dick-sucking skank!" he spat at me.
I winced. I tried to shrug that off, I really did but it wiggled past my careful walls and penetrated my heart. And it stung to my soul. At that, I stopped fighting him, just wishing that he'd get whatever he was going to do to me over with already. He stared at me for the longest time before pushing as hard as he could into my neck, which I'm sure effectively crushed my windpipe considering how I couldn't breathe, then letting me go, muttering something about how I wasn't worth it. You're a bitch, I said in my head, while trying desperately to catch my breath.
"What?" Tyler yelled viciously.
Dammit, I swore that was in my head.
Before I knew it, I raced down the hall where I saw my chemistry class like an oasis in a desert.
Almost there. Three... two... on-- fuck! He grabbed me!
My hand barely grabbed the door handle and I pulled hard at the handle, praying that it would open the door or the teacher would just open it. He pulled me hard, making my hands slip. But I didn't dare let go of the handle. If anything, it made my grip more frantically stronger. I screamed and kicked at him as he pulled me even harder, enraged that I didn't let go. Just when I started losing hope, the teacher opened the door and raised an eyebrow before pursing her eyes at our "situation". More like a life-threatening danger. Tyler's hands immediately left me and he stood down. But the flash in his eyes during our swift contact promised that this wasn't over. And I wasn't looking forward to that one bit.
Heading to my seat in the back, I sighed a breathe of relief, knowing that I was somewhat safe for the time being. Tired from the drama, I lay my head on my desk, drifting off into a realm of memories. Including the mistake that caused all this in the first place.
