iris [on hold]

➵ seven

She didn't wake up in the best of moods. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't slept at all that caused this rising annoyance, but that didn't matter. She was to deal with a long day today, which made everything worse.

Breakfast wasn't exactly bright and sunny -not that it ever was- as she snapped on everything her little siblings would say, but she didn't realize it until much later that it would've been better to tame the waves before it led to a disastrous flood.

School wasn't any different, the constant feeling of restlessness was nagging her throughout the day, and she needed an outlet, a way to let it all out, to ease the anxiety bubbling through her, and it came out in the worst way possible.

She was quietly sitting there, at the furthest table alone. It was lunch time, and she was desperately trying to regain control over her own body. Closing her eyes, she imagined a circle inflating as she inhaled deeply, slowly deflating as she exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inflate. Defl-

"Get up, freak, we're sitting here," someone says.

She looks up to find Monica and her clique standing in front of her. She wasn't really eating anything, but she didn't have the energy to leave.

"Don't call me freak again." she said, almost in a whisper.

"What? Are you serious?" Monica chuckles, "I mean look at you, if I had a face like yours, I'd have killed myself a long time ago."

There were more and more eyes on them. Curious eyes lingering to find out what would happen next, and she felt something inside her start to boil up.

"Now, get up," Monica threatened, "freak."

Her heart was beating furiously by now, she felt blood rush over to her face. Her head had already been throbbing and in the heat of the moment, her body moved on its own and she found herself gripping Monica's collar aggressively. Every soul in the room held their breaths.

Seconds later did the reality dawn on her and she immediately let go. She timidly looked at her bully, only to find her as calm as ever. She slowly fixes her collar before throwing a glare at her.

"I'd slap you right now, but I don't want to get slut on my hand," Monica coldly declared.

She didn't know what came over her. Maybe it was the insomnia driving her insane, quite possibly, the stranger at home, but she knew she couldn't stay quite this time.

"Why not? You already have it all over your outfit," she snapped back, looking dead in the eye, this time she was surprised at herself because she wasn't scared. She was anything but scared.

It took a few moments to process what happened next. In a blink of an eye, a fist collided with her left cheek, and she stumbled backwards before falling to the ground. The pain in her head had gotten worse, and she was almost sure she broke a bone or two.

Everyone was watching by now. Her heart was beating right out of her chest. Monica stood there, smiling victoriously. She felt tears blurring her vision. Her head felt like it was about to explode.

She tried to stop the tears.

She failed.

She tried to immediately stand up straight.

She failed.

She tried to yell or hit her back.

She failed.

So she did what she was best at; she ran.

She ran and ran and ran, through the school doors, and the confused passer-bys, and raced like there was no tomorrow. She didn't want to go home yet, but alas, where else could she have possibly gone anyway?