Broken Crayon

Chapter One

Hallways.

Run.

She ran.

Her feet began to move before she thought about it. It was a mindless task at this point. But equally horrifying each time. Running by the lockers, running by the library, running by the lunchroom. The floor twisted to the left, she fell on her side. Her head pounded against the ground, earning her a bloody welt.

He was gaining on her.

She rose to her feet as the tiled flooring began to slant uphill.

Tears welled up around her green eyes, this couldn't happen again. She trudged up the hall. The dim lights flickered, she heard a psychotic chuckle just feet behind her, the footsteps struck, her head hurt with each step.

The floor dropped.

She fell, and he fell with her. She hit the wall at the bottom. The floor levelled after she hit, and he approached her. The tears streamed down her face. He roughly spun her around, beginning to pull down her skirt.

Sirens.

They blared, as red began to set into the scene. He turned around, letting go of her. She ran to past him around the corner, leaving his face contorted in anger. His head turned to look at me running. He smiled.

The hall grew longer, and as quickly as she ran, she didn't move. He took a step and was upon her. He pulled her hair so that she was right in front of him. The sweat ran down her body. He whispered in her ear as she fought against him. He slowly pulled out a dagger, pressing it against her neck. She couldn't stand anymore as she felt his cold black eyes peering through her.

She fell limp. He held her, the dagger pressing chilly against her skin. He moved it down the sobbing girl, pulling down her skirt in one motion. The sirens got louder...

The sirens...

Madeline Otto bolted upright at the sound of her alarm. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat, her clothes soaked. Her breath shaky, and her heart hammering, she looked at the clock. It was time for her to get ready for the first day of senior year. Allowing her breathing to steady, she sat for a while, trying not to think about the recurring nightmare.

It happened every night, the same torment. Ever since her ex-boyfriend did that to her.

She shuddered.

Climbing out of bed, she walked into the bathroom and stripped down. She began to run her shower, and looked in the mirror.

She always hated what she saw.

Her hair was dyed a shimmering burgundy, her natural hair a darker shade of brown. Which was beginning to show through at the roots. Her green eyes reflected the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes, glimmering with wisdom. Bushy eyebrows had been waxed to a defined contour. Her nose she always thought was a bit to bulbous, but everyone else considered it to be a button shape. Pink, full lips contrasted her pale complexion.

To everyone else, she was beautiful.

Madeline turned on her favorite song, Tag You're It, by Melanie Martinez. Getting in the shower, she washed and cleaned her thin frame. She hummed along to the song as she conditioned her hair.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped one towel around her hair, and another around her body. Walking back to her bedroom, the walls painted a pastel yellow, the bedspread pastel pink, she dried off and picked out her outfit.

A black dress with a sweetheart neckline. It was her go to attire, and the dress flattered her silhouette. She chose some white ruffle socks and black loafers to go with it. She framed her neck with a black choker. Pulling back her hair into a ponytail, Madeline walked out of her room. Skipping breakfast, she grabbed her backpack, and left for school.

Driving to school in her Ford Focus, there was never any traffic in little Alexandria, Minnesota. She turned up the radio to Classical MPR.

Walking into the school, she wasn't greeted by her friends, she wasn't even greeted by the principal.

See, that's what happens when you're raped and you have the audacity to speak out. You're not the victim. You're the provocateur. You're branded like a cow. You've got the word 'slut' written on your forehead.

Madeline had enough to worry about than to worry about fake friends.

She looked up to the second floor hallways. The same hallways in her nightmares. She was always nervous when she walked on it, always unsure if she was in reality or if this was her hallucination. She had luckily avoided this dilemma during her summer vacation. Not anymore. She was back to this, this living hell.

"Madeline."

She heard a voice behind her.

It was his voice.

She ran.