Delicate

graffti on bathroom stalls

☆: *.☽ Cassandra ☆: *.☽

"Till the circus life made me mean"

March 20, 2005

"Don't even look at me," I hissed, the second Veronica appeared at the locker next to me.

"I wasn't going to," She wrinkled her nose.

"Good," I snapped, shoving my books into my locker with extreme force.

"Chill the fuck out," Veronica screeched, "You don't need to be making so much noise this early."

"Then leave," I narrowed my eyes at her, "Or better yet, die."

"You're lucky I don't tell Mr. Twomey on you for bullying," She crossed her arms over her chest, "You're really mean, Cass. I don't know what happened to you."

You happened!
You and him!

"You probably forgot what happened to me, thanks to all that bleach seeping into your scalp," I rolled my eyes.

"Veronica! Veronica!" Two cake-faced girls came barreling towards us, and I mentally prepared myself to be attacked. I couldn't remember their names so I mentally named them—big fake eyelashes and way too over-lined lips.

"Hi girls!" Veronica cooed, "What's up?"

"You'll never guess what we've just heard," Big fake eyelashes blabbed.

"What?" Veronica's eyes widened.

"It's unbelievable," Way too over-lined lips nodded.

"Just tell me already!"

I tried to ignore whatever they were saying but a part of me was intrigued. I didn't have my own friends to listen to, so I casually packed up my locker and bag and listened.

"Okay, so, I heard from Lydia, who heard from Lucas that Stephan McGarry was accused of rape...again," Big fake eyelashes explained.

I could feel all of their eyes burning holes in the back of my head but I refused to look at them. Partly because I didn't want to give them the satisfaction but mostly because I couldn't fucking breathe.

He'd done it to someone else.
I had no idea who, or how this information even got out, but I believed it.

I believed it with my whole entire being.

He was a monster, and I had known the second I blew the trial to shit, that'd he'd do it again.

All because I couldn't pull my shit together.

"What!" Veronica screamed so loud you could probably hear it from two countries over.

"I know!" Way too over-lined lips agreed, "I can't fucking believe it."

"Who's the girl that accused him?" Was the first question my ex best friend asked.

Like that actually fucking mattered.

"Adeline Kavanagh."

"Oh my fucking god," Veronica gasped, "Are you serious?"

I didn't know Adeline. I mean, I knew of her and she'd been in a few of my classes over the years but I didn't ever talk to her. From what I gathered she was super friendly and some sort of crazy good dancer.

But in this moment I knew her.
I knew exactly how it felt to be her.

I knew how it felt to be trapped underneath Stephan, with his hands wrapped so tightly around your wrists that you can't even move an inch.

We were two strangers now faced with the harsh reality that monsters were walking the halls with us.

"I obviously don't believe it," Big fake eyelash girl—scratch that—bitch, scoffed.

"It's not your story to believe," I whipped around to shoot daggers at all of them.

"Of course you believe her," Veronica snorted.

"Yeah, I do," I scoffed, "Unlike you three cunts I have the decency to believe in other girls."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "Whatever, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that Adeline probably has a better chance at winning a case against him. You know, provided she has money and all."

"And because she's not a psycho."

"Fuck off," I shoved at big fake eyelash bitches chest, "I will hit you."

"I'm not scared."

I gave her a hard shove and then walked off towards the toilets. She wasn't worth my time.

I locked myself in a stall and dropped down onto the toilet. I could feel myself shaking, the information I'd just heard coursing through my veins.

I knew Veronica's words were supposed to hurt me, but they were true. Adeline did have a better chance of winning.

She's rich, beautiful, talented and had a huge support system from what I'd seen. Plus I'm pretty sure her father is a barrister.

I felt a whole swell of emotions. I was upset that I wouldn't ever be believed. I was upset that I had failed myself in court.

But even more than that, I was furious that I had no one. Everyone had left me and they never even bothered to look back. I was alone in this stall, staring at the graffiti that read 'Cassandra Crawford is a liar and a slut'. I felt hot tears fall onto my cheeks and I grabbed a sharpie from my bag.

I uncapped it and scribbled out a couple of the words and wrote a new message. A better message. I wiped my tears, and popped two of my anti-anxiety meds before leaving the stall.

The words left behind: 'Veronica Greenwood is a liar and a slut'.

And I walked out of the bathroom with a smile on my face.