The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (GirlXGirl)

Chapter 3: A Stranger in a New Place

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring blankly at my reflection. My black hair hung in limp strands, still slightly damp from the rushed shower. It contrasted sharply with my pale skin, making the dark circles under my green eyes stand out even more. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly, casting a cold glow that only made me look worse. But I didn't care about my appearance—why would I?

I tied my hair back into a low, careless ponytail, a few strands falling loose around my face like I didn't give a damn. My eyes, once a vivid green, now looked like they'd been drained of life. A far cry from the version of me that used to shine before everything went to hell.

I tugged on the baggy black hoodie from the foot of my bed. The fabric was still cold against my skin, oversized, hanging off my thin frame like some kind of security blanket. My ripped jeans were familiar—another layer of armor I threw on to get through the day. Not that I gave a shit about fashion; it was more about blending into the wallpaper than standing out.

The house was quiet as I made my way to the door. My father had already left. No surprise there. His empty coffee cup on the counter was the only sign he'd been around. It didn't matter. His absence was as reliable as the knot in my stomach. I could still feel the bite of the river water from the night before, how my body had trembled, dripping and defeated as I walked home. I'd failed again. Like always.

Stepping outside, the morning air stung my cheeks. The sky was gray, a dull reflection of my mood. I trudged to the bus stop, dragging my feet like they were made of lead. The houses around me felt like a bad stage set, someone else's life that I'd accidentally stumbled into. The bare trees rattled in the cold wind, whispering secrets I didn't want to hear. Everything about this place felt wrong.

When the bus finally arrived, I kept my head down, finding a seat at the back. The other students didn't notice me, their chatter blending into a mind-numbing background hum. I slouched into the seat, leaning my head against the window. My reflection in the rain-streaked glass was pale and ghostly, like a cheap horror movie. I looked like someone who was still trying to figure out how to disappear.

The school came into view—a hulking gray building that felt as welcoming as a prison. I stepped off the bus, the noise of students crashing over me like a tidal wave—laughter, conversations, lockers slamming. I moved through the crowd like a shadow, keeping my eyes fixed ahead, avoiding any chance of making eye contact.

Inside, the hallways buzzed with activity. Students formed their groups, their cliques, like it was some kind of social hierarchy. I'd seen this scene before—at every school I'd been to. The unspoken rules, the way people judged you the second they laid eyes on you. I wasn't here to play their stupid games.

My locker was tucked away in the far corner, hidden from the main traffic. The cold metal felt strange under my fingers as I spun the combination lock and tossed my bag inside. I already wanted the day to be over.

"Hey, you're new here, right?" A cheerful voice sliced through my bubble, sharp and annoying.

I turned to see a blonde girl standing next to me, all bubbly and bright like a goddamn cartoon character. She wore a colorful scarf that clashed horribly with the dreariness of the day. Her blue eyes sparkled with an irritating curiosity, the kind of energy that drained me just to look at.

"Yeah," I muttered flatly, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket and glancing away, hoping she'd take the hint and move along.

"I'm Jenna," she continued, completely ignoring my lack of enthusiasm. "You must be Dylan, right? Word travels fast in a place like this. How are you finding everything so far?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes so hard they might fall out. How was I finding it? The town was dull, the people didn't matter, and the school felt like a cage—just like every other place I'd been. But I wasn't about to explain that to her. I shrugged. "Fine," I said curtly, already stepping away.

But Jenna followed me, her smile unshaken. "Well, if you ever need someone to show you around or—"

"I don't," I cut her off, spinning to face her, my green eyes sharp. "I'm not here to make friends."

Her smile faltered, shifting to awkward. "Oh... okay. Well, I just thought—"

"I don't need help," I snapped, my voice biting, as I walked away without a backward glance. My heart pounded with frustration—and something like guilt. I knew I'd been harsh, but that was the point. It was easier to push people away before they got close enough to see how broken I really was.

The rest of the morning dragged on. Classes blurred together, and I sat at the back of each room, my hoodie pulled up like a shield, eyes glued to the clock. I didn't answer when the teachers called on me. Eventually, they stopped trying. The other students cast curious glances my way, but no one dared approach me again. I made sure of that.

At lunch, I found a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, sitting alone with an untouched tray of food. I wasn't hungry. The noise of the cafeteria—laughter, gossip, the clatter of trays—felt worse than the smell of whatever slop they served. I stared down at my hands, tracing the lines of my palm, lost in the weight of my isolation.

I glanced up occasionally, watching the other students from a distance. They seemed so at ease, while I felt like I was drowning in a sea of faces. A stranger in a new place, even in my own skin.

The loneliness was self-inflicted, but that didn't make it any easier. The more I pushed people away, the heavier the emptiness inside me became. But letting anyone in felt too dangerous. So I stayed alone. Safer that way. At least until it wasn't.