𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xix ❞

Note: From several comments, I've seen people talking how the reader has no self respect for herself, is annoying, etc. If you don't like the story, don't read. Don't post demeaning comments like that. From a bullied person's viewpoint, having a neglectful father that doesn't do anything, is bullied day in and day out by powerful people who can ruin her life if she doesn't stay quiet, is agonizing. She doesn't do anything because she's afraid that if she does, her bullies will do something worse to her. If you've never been bullied, you won't understand that. I've been bullied before (obviously not as intense as what I'm writing, thank God), so I'm writing the same type of emotions and actions I've felt/taken at the time before I was finally able to get help. So, please... stop being mean, and just exit the story if you don't enjoy this. Thank you.

⎡ act xix - friendship ⎦

┊❝ We want to help you... truly, we do ❞┊

── THE next day came far too quickly for (Y/N)'s liking, rising from her bed like a zombie and looking the part as well. Stumbling through her morning routine and driving in a daze towards school, she shambled through her classes as if she were dead, staying true to the epitome of the undead. Thankfully, Dylan nor Ian approached her, instead giving her the space she craved. Then again, they looked to be having their own problems from the way they conversed with each other in hushed whispers, their eyes raking across the room every few seconds as if they had secrets they were not willing to share.

She didn't care enough to ask.

It was only really when her art class came around did she snap out of her trance.

Though the project where students would draw and paint the portraits of their assigned partners had long since passed, she always found Sawyer sitting in the seat right beside the spot she usually sat in. He never spoke to her more than a smile and a small greeting as she had never participated in the conversations he would try to start courtesy of Dylan and Ian, but he didn't have to. She relaxed just from being in his presence, as he was a relieving break from the likes of her bullies.

Sitting beside Sawyer, (Y/N) felt her muscles practically unwind from the stress of the previous evening that had been eating away at her.

It was peaceful.

"Okay, everyone!" Mr. Kendal wheeled into the room whilst adjust his glasses, a bright smile on his face. "Settle down, settle down! I have a new project you'll start working on, and guess what? You'll be working with your previous partners on this one! Yay! Now, for your instructions..."

Mr. Kendal spoke a bit more on their task before finally releasing his students, and when he did so, (Y/N) found herself looking into Sawyer's soft brown eyes upon finally turning around to face him. She found herself breathless from how many questions seemed to be swirling within the hues, but as always, he just gave her that gentle smile of his that seemed to wash away all of her worries.

"I'm glad to be working with you again, (Y/N)," Sawyer started as he retrieved his sketch pad.

"Me..." she cleared her throat. "Me... too."

His smile grew at that.

As the two began working and swapping ideas for the design that they were going to submit to be judged, (Y/N) didn't seem to notice the way Sawyer kept glancing at her. There was concern in his eyes, worry too, and such emotions stemmed from the fact that he didn't know how or why she was associating herself with people like Ian and Dylan. He knew she wasn't doing so willingly, something that all the more made his fingers tense.

"(Y/N)," Sawyer finally spoke up, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he did so.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

At his question, she stopped what she was doing, staring at his side profile in confusion before it finally dawned on her what he was asking about. Looking away from him in shame, having haven't spoken to him in so many weeks because of the Dylan and Ian reason, she felt her heart sink.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" he sighed, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. "You know... I asked Shariah how she really knew you. You may not know, but she has this subtle tick that she does when she's lying: she always fiddles with what's on her wrist, and that day, she messed with her bracelets as soon as she told me how she met you." He glanced at (Y/N) with a sad smile, continuing, "She told me how scared you looked buying that alcohol, and it was obvious it wasn't for you. She also told me the card you were trying to use was a black card. Only someone with extreme wealth used that type of card. Someone like Dylan."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, wondering what kind of expression he was making but feeling too humiliated to look up and find out for herself.

How she wished the floor would swallow her.

I hate this.

I hate this so much.

I hate... them.

Probably for the first time, (Y/N) allowed herself to think these words about Ian and Dylan. She hadn't done so before since she didn't want to stoop down to such a pathetic level, but she was already as pathetic as they came, so there was no more use in holding out. Breathing in deeply and closing her eyes, she then let out that same breath as she tried to clear her mind and focus on Sawyer's words.

"You know... me and Shariah... we can help you," Sawyer began again as he fiddled awkwardly with his pencil, picking at the end of his eraser that was beginning to shed due to him using it earlier. "We have a couple of other friends, Kira and Alina, who could help as well. We want to help you... truly, we do. If anything, we just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Hah..." (Y/N) laughed dryly. "I'm not okay, Sawyer... I haven't been okay for a long time."

"So..." he muttered. "That means..."

"It means I'm not sure if I ever will be again," she continued even softer than last time, feeling her eyes start to droop from just how exhausted she was. "And, honestly? I'm also not sure what it feels like anymore to be okay."

"What?" Sawyer's voice now held a sharp edge to it. "What did they do to you?"

"Does it matter?" She shrugged.

"Of course it matters!" He practically shouted, immediately hunching his shoulders when his outburst garnered a few confused stares from his classmates, thankfully Mr. Kendal having wheeled out of the room for a moment for one reason or another. "Of course it matters, (Y/N)... what they did cannot be excused. I hate not being able to do anything... I hate seeing you suffer. As your friend, it makes me feel... useless."

(Y/N)'s breath hitched at his words.

'Friend?'

He thinks of me... as a friend?

She looked up to meet his eyes, and all she saw was utter compassion. It made her heart break once more, and in that moment, all she could think about was how good it felt to finally have someone who cared—someone, who truly saw her.

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To be continued...