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𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑌 𝑂𝑁 𝐴 𝐶𝑅𝑂𝑆𝑆 － 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡 ・゜゜・ ➷ ・゜゜・．
▸ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, your heart racing as you awaited the satisfying thud of a Doctor Pepper dropping down after successfully paying for a Zero Coke that you clutched tightly in your hand. The soft hum of the machine surrounded you, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day that had unfolded.
Earlier, the lunch hour had devolved into a nightmare. You had watched, helpless, as the bullies terrorized Freddy, lifting him by his now-tattered boxers, the fabric stretched to its limit before it finally ripped.
It took both you and his foster sister, Darla, to help him down from that humiliating predicament.
Darla had bombarded you with questions, her curiosity piqued about how you knew Freddy.
Through the flurry of her inquiries, you learned that Freddy, along with Billy and a few others, was in a foster home, just like Darla.
The revelation tugged at your heart, making you feel more connected to them and their struggles.
You still felt the anger bubbling inside you from witnessing the bullies treat him like a toy. The image of them reaching inside his pants to grab his underwear lingered in your mind, a sickening reminder of their cruelty.
Why did they have to stoop so low? It was gross, beyond comprehension, and it only fueled your determination to support Freddy.
After the ordeal, you and Freddy found a quiet spot to talk. Your conversations were filled with laughter, smiles, and those awkward moments that made you both blush.
You exchanged numbers and social media handles, a silent promise of friendship forming between you.
It felt like a small victory, especially knowing that the security guard was mostly on break, giving you some much-needed privacy.
But even as you tried to enjoy the moment, a knot tightened in your stomach, gnawing at you with guilt. You couldn't shake the image of Freddy's distress from earlier, and when you noticed him eyeing the vending machine, you felt a surge of determination.
You wanted to lift his spirits, even if just for a moment.
You didn't hesitate to skip class; being with him felt more important than any lecture. He deserved joy, and you were determined to give him a taste of it, even if the world outside didn't seem to understand his worth.
Your hands tightened into fists, then released, the cycle repeating as frustration and self-reproach coursed through you. The desire to do more, to be more, hung over you like a weight.
