[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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I stood there, completely frozen, as Aurora tore the pictures off the walls with shaking hands, her face pale with fury and something else—fear, maybe. My mind was racing, but my body refused to move. I didn't know what to say. What could I say? The air around us was thick, suffocating, as I glanced at the photographs.
Pictures. All of her. Pictures that made me physically sick just looking at them. Who the hell would do this? Who could be so cruel? My stomach churned as I took in the images—private, intimate moments, times when she was clearly vulnerable. These were things no one should ever see, moments that had no place on a school wall for everyone to gawk at.
What kind of sick bastard would put these up?
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe through the rising anger in my chest. This—this must be what she wanted to talk to me about earlier. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I tried to piece it all together.
My eyes landed on one particular image—a baby scan. My breath hitched in my throat as my heart sank into my stomach. I could feel my chest tighten, and everything in me went cold. I pulled the picture from the wall, my hand trembling as I stared at it. That day in the hospital—was this the scar they were talking about? The one they had to restitch?
Oh god.
My heart broke for her, a sharp, unbearable pain twisting deep inside me. How much had she gone through? How much had she kept buried?
I looked to my left, and my heart shattered even further. Aurora was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled to her chest, her hands gripping crumpled papers like they were her lifeline. A sob tore from her, raw and guttural, like it was wrenched straight from her soul. The sound of it—so broken, so desperate—knocked the wind out of me.
"Holy shit," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.
Her head snapped up, and her tear-filled eyes met mine, wide and filled with shame. "Gibsie, I—" she started, her voice cracking, barely holding herself together.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. I took a step toward her, my heart aching with every inch that separated us. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Aurora tried to speak, but her voice faltered. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her whole body shaking as more sobs wracked through her.
Around us, the other students were murmuring, their voices growing louder, nastier. Cruel words filled the space, bouncing off the walls, wrapping around us like poison. They were laughing. Laughing at her. Mocking her. Making fun of the pictures, the memories, the trauma that had been thrown up for display like some kind of twisted joke.
My hands curled into fists. I could feel the rage boiling inside me, threatening to spill over. I wanted to scream, to yell at them to shut up, to leave her the hell alone. But I couldn't move fast enough. I couldn't stop it.
