Dancing with Shadows ✔

Truth or Madness

Dancing with Shadows

Chapter 22

It was Monday, which meant another long, gruelling walk to school. Emma's grandparents had refused to drop her off, insisting that the exercise would be good for her. But Emma knew better; they didn't want to be around her, didn't want to be seen with the girl who had brought so much shame to the Hunt family name.

The maids, who were more aware of her situation than her grandparents realized, would sneak her breakfast whenever they could. On most mornings, her family would deliberately eat everything, leaving her with nothing. But the maids would cook a little extra early on, just for her, hiding it away so she wouldn't go hungry.

For most people, the walk to school would take fifteen minutes. But for Emma, with the added weight and the constant fatigue, it took twenty-five, sometimes thirty minutes. By the time she reached the school gate, she was already exhausted. She wobbled her way to the front door and then to her classroom, feeling the familiar gnawing hunger in her stomach. Nowadays, she found herself eating more at school than she ever did at home. Valentina, her only real ally, kept her company when she could, but they didn't share many classes.

As Emma sat in class, trying to ignore the stares, she stuffed her face with the food she had managed to bring with her. Some of the girls in her class watched her, giggling and whispering among themselves. She did her best to block them out, but one of them—Helina—decided to sit beside her, smirking as she did.

"Soo, Emma, right? My friends and I were wondering... are you some crazy freak or something? We saw the news the other day," Helina said, her voice dripping with mock concern. The others in the background giggled louder.

"Leave me alone, please," Emma mumbled, focusing on her food.

"Well, okay then," Helina said, surprisingly backing off. Emma breathed a small sigh of relief, though she knew it wouldn't last.

Two minutes later, the teacher, Mrs. Moore, walked in. "Excuse me, Ms. Hunt, this is History, not the cafeteria," she said, barely glancing in Emma's direction. Someone in the back coughed and muttered, "Fat cow," causing the entire class to burst into laughter. Emma clenched her fists under the desk, trying to hold back the tears.

The class was torture. Someone kept throwing crumpled pieces of paper onto her desk, each one filled with vile insults and cruel jokes. She ignored them, as she always did, but it didn't stop. Then, suddenly, a box was thrown at the back of her head—a box of condoms. The class erupted into more laughter, the sound echoing in her ears.

"Who threw that?!" Mrs. Moore demanded, her voice sharp. But Emma couldn't take it anymore. Her vision blurred with tears as the humiliation and stress became too much to bear.

"Emma, are you okay?" Mrs Moore asked, her tone softening. But that question broke Emma. She burst into tears, hurriedly packing her bag and storming out of the classroom, unable to face the cruelty any longer.

She decided to go home, even though she had barely been in class for an hour. It was ironic; she hated being at home, but it was the only place where she could hide, where she could escape the relentless bullying, even if just for a little while. Emma knew that home was no sanctuary, but at least there, she could be alone, away from the laughter and the stares, even if only temporarily.

**

For the rest of the day, Emma sat alone in her room, by the window, staring at the only good thing about the house—the beautiful panorama that stretched out beyond the confines of her suffocating world. The view was a fleeting escape, a momentary distraction from the turmoil swirling inside her.