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● 5 ●

I was at school. We were all coming to get seated in History. I took a seat at the back of the class, like I always did with any class. No one would ever sit next to me, so I'd have the space of two tables to myself.

As I normally did, I sat at the back and dropped my bag onto the free seat next to me. I sat down and waited for the rest of the class to sit down.

But something happened that hadn't ever happened before.

Michael Clifford, the most popular boy in our class, came to sit at the back.

Next to me.

"Hey, is that yours?" He asked, pointing to my bag on the seat next to me, indicating that he wanted to sit there.

"Yeah, sorry." I said awkwardly as I picked up the bag and pushed it under my desk, unwillingly giving space for Michael to sit down next to me.

Casually, he sat down, and waited with me for class to start.

"What's your name again?"

I wasn't offended, not many people knew me. I was used to it.

"Grace." I replied.

He nodded. "Oh right, yeah. Sorry."

"No it's fine."

After a moment, some kind of realization hit him.

"Ooh right! You're that girl who's mum-" he stopped.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Really." I said. He was popular, and I'd always thought he'd be horrible like the rest. But actually he seemed quite nice.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but who do you live with?" Michael said after a while. Class had started by now.

"My dad and brother, Joseph."

"Isn't your dad..." he trailed off.

"Abusive? Yeah he is." I completed for him.

He nodded his head.

Charlotte, one of the popular girls, turned around to look at Michael with a questioning look.

'Why are you sitting with her?' She mouthed.

He looked back at her with a kind of evil smirk. He waved his hand in dismissal.

Charlotte gave me a wierd smile while turning back around.

What scared me was Michael's response. He seemed to be really nice, but the way he smirked at Charlotte as if he was planning to do something scared me.

I stayed silent. We didn't talk to each other. We just sat silently, facing the front, watching sir talk about World War II.

I felt something on my thigh. I looked and saw Michael's hand gripped on to it. I was frightened.

I tried to take his hand off, but the more I tried, the more his grip tightened.

All my thoughts of him being nice dissappeared.

I gave up and reluctantly let him do whatever he wanted to. I got a glimpse of the wide smirk on his face as he looked at the front as if nothing was happening.

I tried to shake the feeling off, but his hand started trailing up my thigh to a place where I always kept private. I didn't want it exposed any time soon.

I was trembling. "Stop." I whispered.

He just chuckled.

"Please. Please stop."