Azalea

Nightmare

Azalea POV

~TW~

I could feel the air around me flying past my face, my hair swept up above my head. I felt like i was floating, like i was flying, like i was weightless. Time seemed to slow, i could no longer feel the aching in my bones and muscles, no longer feel the blood coating my body. No longer hear angela and michaels cackles at my screams and pleas for them to stop. No longer see the smiles on their dark fucking faces.

I felt..... Calm.

At peace.

Like the calm after the storm had finally arrived.

But like all good things, every ends eventually

I saw the wooded floor boards seconds before i felt my body smack into it, i landed forcefully on my outstretched arm. I couldnt contain the scream that ripped from my throat. Through teary eyes i could see that bitch Angela crouching infront of my face. Mock pity in her eyes.

"Tsk, Azzy. what have i said about being careful when walking down the stairs" she says in a condescending tone. "Fuck. you" i growl as she picks my face up in her hands. " awe kittens still got claws" Michael cackles from behind me, walking down the stairs. He grabs my arm and holds it behind my head, blinding pain shoots through my arm, causing a broken scream to rip from my throat.

He drops my arm, "pathetic piece of shit" he cowls as he steps over me. I cradle my arm as I see Angela and Michael walking out the door. I lay there for a minute until I heard the car pull out of the driveway.

I pull myself off the floor, looking down at my ruined outfit. So much for a cute school outfit.

I walk upstairs being careful not to slip on the blood at the top of the stairs. I close the door to my bedroom behind me. I guess the word bedroom implies that the room actually has a bed. My room is a 100 year old mattress with stains in the corner that were there when I got here. I walk into the shower and pull of the bloodied clothes. The scalding water runs off my body and down the drain.

I watch as the now red water swirls before dropping through the drain grate. I stop the water and asses my body in the mirror. The bruises and cuts on my legs, courtesy of michael, rule out my chance of wearing a skirt. I look at the blood clotting in the cuts, surrounded my bruises at different stages of healing, the yellows from last week and the purples from yesterday swirl together.

I pull a pair of black trousers over my legs and put on a black top and blazer, wincing at the pain in my arm.

I walk down the street and get on my motorbike, speeding down the streets. I reach the gates to the school, people clearing out of my way.

I pull into my parking space and walk up the stairs to the main building. People scattering out of my path. They know most of the 'rumours' about me aren't rumours. Good.

I walk into professor Hindmarsh's office and slam the door behind me. "Ahh Azalea, i was wondering if you were coming" he says. I look at my watch and realise i'm 15 minutes late for our meeting. I shrug "eh you know me" i drawl. Nick Hindmarsh is a medic at my fight club, he's the one who introduced me, he decided that it would be useful to fight somewhere i wouldn't get in trouble. Over the years we have developed a don't ask don't tell policy, "i tripped down the stairs this morning" i say bluntly as i shrug my blazer off, letting him asses my arm.

"You don't strike me as the clumsy type" he says, touching my arm. Wincing i say "what do you expect, i love surprising people" i say, wincing again as he puts pressure on my arm. He sighs, and despite my protests, drives me to the nearest hospital.