enemies (with benefits) » l.r.h || completed

forty one

Jess

Three weeks have gone by, and nothing better has come up. Vanessa is still a joke, a laughing stock, the talk of the entire town. Her mother is so disappointed in her, she doesn't even speak to her. Mitchell doesn't know what to do so he just talks to her to make up for everyone else treating her like garbage.

"I have another few," Vanessa whispered, dropping scraps of paper with scribbled letters saying 'kill yourself' or 'have fun in hell'. She's been getting them for a week and a half now, and it's starting to show how badly she has contemplated it.

"V, they're all just idiots wanting to hurt you because they have nothing better to do," I grabbed a lighter and held a piece of paper saying 'Satan's Slut' above the flame, watching it burn.

To think that these teenagers, that were just as sleazy as the rest of us, were shaming her like this without even knowing the real story. They'd believe an amateur video of juniors laughing with her on the bed instead of her as the victim. Not everyone was a dick though. A very small handful believed her, but they were terrified of the ruthless and merciless others that roamed the halls, shaming anyone that showed pity on Vanessa.

It was disgusting. It's filth. Just as filthy as those evil juniors that harmed my Vanessa.

"Am I like the boy who cried wolf?" She asked me, laying her head on my shoulder.

"No," I played with her hair, my other hand still playing with the lighter. "you never cried wolf until the wolf attacked. The townspeople just live in a corrupt village."

"For an airhead, you're pretty wise," Vanessa joked. I breathed out a chuckle.

"Too many cheesy dramas."

"I don't think Gossip Girl got that in depth," she smiled, taking the lighter and flicked it on, watching the flame.

"I don't know," I watched the flame also. "Chuck Bass was pretty poetic."

"Well you know why," she grinned and we both looked at each other.

"Because he's Chuck Bass," we laughed, and it made me happy to see her smiling. For three weeks she had her head hung and her face hidden behind her hair and kept her lips in a thin line. She didn't deserve to be upset.

"Jess," Vanessa pulled me out of my thoughts. "when did they say the pizza will be here?"

"Uh, like half an hour from when I called."

"When did you call?" I shrugged and she groaned, falling back on my bed. "Look!" She whined, kicking her legs and flapping her arms. I rolled my eyes and looked at my phone.

"It was 15 minute ago," she groaned even louder, grabbing her phone and looking at it. I knew it wasn't a good idea for her to do, but the last time I took her phone she literally bit my hand until she drew blood.

I watched her face fall more and more each second as she scrolled through what I'm assuming is her Facebook wall. I felt a pain in my chest, watching her get visibly broken down by words typed on Helvetica on the Internet.

That saying of sticks and stones is a lie. Because broken bones heal faster than a broken soul.

"V, babe, please stop looking at that stuff," I said softly, trying to take her phone away. She rolled over, exiting out of it and went on something else. I couldn't see her face but I saw her phone screen, barely. She was texting someone.

"Why do people think being mean makes them superior?" Her voice was weak, straining from crying.

"I don't know, Vanessa," I answered as honestly as I could. I could have said because they're dicks and assholes but that wouldn't make her feel better at all.