Home [n.h.]

VI

"Get the fuck back here!" I shrieked, running after her lilac hair. Her feet padded sloppily as she jogged away from me. The cold air scraped the back of my throat. "Stop!" 

She was slow, weak almost. The hall was empty, every other student trying not to fall asleep in their classes. Stella and I had P.E., which we never actually participated in. We always skipped that class, and the coach didn't care. As long as we showed up to the class to yell 'here!' when he called our names, we were good. Her hair swished back and forth as I picked up my pace. I grabbed her arm and whirled her around. 

I don't know, I expected her to be crying. I didn't want to think that of her, though. She always told me she hated to cry, she never wanted to look and feel vulnerable. But, I still expected her cheeks to be splattered with mascara and her lips to be creased with pain. 

But in reality, she was stone cold. 

"You need to get away from me. Right. Now." She growled. 

"Oh, did you say that to him, too?" I gave her a sarcastic glance. 

My hand grasped her sleeve, attempting to pull it up. She jolted her arm up and down erratically as her legs kicked off, but I used all the strength in my body to pull her back to me. 

"Don't fucking run away from me!" 

In the midst of the fight, her thin sweater ripped from her abdomen to her hips and her sleeve hiked up to her elbow. My grip loosened and my other hand found my mouth. 

"Oh my god, Stella." I whispered into my palm. She sprinted down the corridor before I could stop her, but it was like she never left. The images of her bruised stomach and arm played in my mind like a motion picture I couldn't turn off. Every bloody lashing and sensitive purple area was so vivid. 

After a moment of utter shock, I jogged in the direction she had ran, still a little fuzzy from her exposed pain. She had been more vulnerable then, than she ever would've been crying. 

I headed for the bathroom, but was halted when I saw her against the wall, knees pressed against her chest, just around the corner from where we had been. 

I stopped just a couple feet away from her. I couldn't hear rigid sobs or sniffles, she was just staring at the white wall blankly. 

"Stella please, please let me help you. Who did this to you?" 

"Don't make me say it. You don't know him. You won't understand." Her voice was trembling. 

"Is it that mystery guy you have been having coffee with? I swear, I don't care if it's Jesus christ himself, he deserves to pay. He's a coward." 

"Please Aveline, stop." 

"I can't stop!" 

She shuddered at my angry voice. I sighed, crouching down and looking into her face. She didn't look back. 

"Stella, I don't want to see you all battered up, you don't deserve this. Who was it?" I said slowly.

"You'll never see me 'all battered up' again, I promise. Ok?"

Ok.

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I hadn't heard from Niall in a week. Actually, Niall hadn't heard from me. I had definitely heard from him, just not talked to him. 

I wanted to kiss him, god, I wanted to. But, I couldn't risk losing him. I had just got him. 

Everyday, he calls me and leaves a voicemail, talking about his day and how it's been going with the investigation. He talks about his friends, since he's gone back to the college to finish the first week of this school year. He talks about a boy named Harry, who he met while in search for a companion since I was gone. He wants me to meet him. I'm scared to meet anyone.