The broken ones

chapter fifty six

Pov's are gonna be switched in this chapter so.......read on😊

ISREALLA

It's been a year and a half. 18 months of pure torture and my worst nightmare was finally over.

As I laid down on my bed in my old room spread like a star fish, I pondered everything that has happened these past months.

I wondered how someone I had known from kindergarten could do this to me.

All because of jealousy.

When my parents had told me Charliey was behind everything that had happened, I refused to believe them.

There was no way my ex best friend would do or plan something that ghastly. She was my confident, my partner in crime. I was even told she was the one who found me laying lifeless on the bathroom floor and immediately called the police. I didn't want to believe it.

Why would she hire boys to rape her own best friend? It didn't make any fucking sense to me.

That was untill I saw her during the first day of the trial.

She had changed so much over the past year.
Her once dark hair was now blonde with the black roots showing a little bit. Her petite heart shaped face was permanently etched with a scowl making her look older than she seemed. And her lovely blue eyes were now clouded with hate and rage it was impossible to miss because that look was directed at me.

After a few months the trial was finally over and she was found guilty with damning evidence, I had tried to speak to her and ask her why she did what she did, but her words were like ice shards plunged deep into my chest "I should have told them to rape you to death so I wouldn't have to see your pathetic face again." She spat at me, lips curling into a snarl.

I didn't even know what to say to her. Instead my shoulders sagged in defeat and I walked over to my parents and grandparents letting them take me home. I was so done with this bullshit.

That same day I had told my mom and dad I wanted to follow my grandparents back to Nigeria but they wouldn't let me. My grandmother and I ended up arguing with my parents about it which led to me angrily storming up the stairs, locking myself up in my room and turning on my Bluetooth speakers so loud, I couldn't hear my grandmother's screams of annoyance as I cried.

I didn't want to admit it to myself but I missed him so much. How we left things unfinished had created a constant ache in my chest as if I had betrayed him. I had told him I would call. I had told him I would keep in touch but instead I was a coward who couldn't even stand up to her parents and tell them that I wanted my life back.

When I first arrived in Canada my mom had made me delete my socials and deactivate them. It wasn't good for my mental health she said.

I didn't understand why at first untill I realized I was trending everywhere.

"The black teenage girl that was gang raped at her high school" what a joke.

I scoffed to myself, my tired eyes staring up at my ceiling in thought.
I knew I couldn't keep up with pretenses anymore. My relationship with my parents was strained. We were like strangers, roommates, living and co existing in the same house.
It was literally exhausting having them tell me what to do after everything. After they had neglected me and made me suffer with my grief alone. No calls, no texts, no face time, no nothing.

If not for my grandparents and therapy I would have been an empty shell of myself. If not for him and Medina and the rest of my friends I would have been tethering at the edge of insanity.