Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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June 22nd 2002
My eye was slowly healing—and when I say slowly, I mean painfully slow. The swelling had barely gone down after three days, leaving me with a purplish, swollen mess that made me avoid every mirror in the house. Three days of ignoring everyone. Three days of locking myself in my room, drowning in the covers, hiding from the world.
I didn't want to face it. I wanted to be up and moving, pretend like everything was fine, but I couldn't. The weight of it all was too much.
A knock on my door pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Blair... it's me." Aoife's voice was soft but insistent from behind the door. She slowly opened it and peeked her head in, her eyes immediately landing on me curled up on the bed.
She knew about my eye, but she hadn't seen it yet. I'd been careful, making sure no one really got a good look at the damage. But there was only so much I could do.
Aoife walked over, sitting down gently on the edge of my bed. "Eloise is downstairs," she said, her tone light, like she was trying to make this feel normal. "You wanna come down?"
"No," I replied, the glumness in my voice betraying how I felt. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, trying to disappear into the fabric.
"Tough shit." Eloise's voice cut through the air as she stormed into my room. She wasn't gentle like Aoife, wasn't going to let me hide. She didn't knock or give me a chance to refuse her entry. Her eyes zeroed in on me, and I could see her whole body tense when she finally saw my face.
"Jesus Christ, Blair!" Eloise blurted, rushing over to the side of the bed. "What the hell happened? Your eye looks like someone clocked you! Who did this?"
I flinched at her reaction, pulling back slightly. I could feel the familiar panic rising in my chest. She was going to assume it was Connor. Of course she would. Everyone had been suspicious.
"I told you, I just tripped," I muttered, looking down at my hands. My heart was pounding.
"Don't give me that crap," Eloise shot back, her voice getting sharper. "This is not from 'just tripping,' Blair. It looks like someone hit you. Was it Connor?"
Aoife, who had been sitting silently on the edge of the bed, leaned forward now, her voice more measured but no less concerned. "Blair, you can tell us if he did this. You don't have to cover for him. If Connor hurt you—"
"He didn't!" I cut in, too quickly. My voice sounded defensive, desperate. I could feel their eyes on me, both of them staring, waiting for me to explain, to tell the truth. But I couldn't. I wouldn't let them think that about him.
Aoife gave me a look, her brows furrowed. "Blair, you've been avoiding everyone for days. We haven't seen you. You can't just expect us to believe that you tripped and got a black eye like that."
