Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 8: The Cycle Ends Right Now

Chapter 8: The Cycle Ends Right Now

Allie's POV

I woke up the next morning and stared at the ceiling. I struggled not to groan because, ugh, it was only Tuesday! The day after Adam and I's huge fight, and when the teacher had grabbed me. That had hurt. A lot. Thankfully, nobody suspected a thing.

And breaking down in Marcel's room? What the hell was with that? What was wrong with me? Why would Marcel comfort me like that? He actually TOUCHED me! Gross! I had little nerd germs on me!

I muttered a rainbow of curse words under my breath and pinched my bruised arm to punish myself. I squeaked in pain and tears leaked out of the edges of my tightly clenched eyes.

I opened my eyes slowly and glanced at the time. Five in the morning. I woke up earlier than usual. School didn't start until 7:50am. But I didn't feel like seeing anyone today. I decided to call in sick. Nobody would care.

"It'll be okay," I told myself as I gently stroked the bruises on my arm.

I froze. Aren't those the words Marcel told me when he... touched me? That's the thing, though. He said, "It'll be okay". Not, "It's okay". It WOULD be. It's not right now. But it WOULD be.

I shook my head and threw back the covers on my bed. I didn't want to think about Marcel. I didn't want to think about anyone, other than myself.

I used to live the high life. I was the most popular girl in school, I was dating the hottest and most popular guy, and everybody obeyed me.

Now even though I was still the most popular girl in school, Adam cheated on me and dumped me. I was stuck with Marcel as a partner for a stupid project. The whole school had seen me cry.

Everything had gone downhill for me once I got partnered with Marcel. Why was God punishing me? What bad did I ever do?

I scowled when I thought of Adam again. This was all his fault. Not just his fault though, but also Kendall's. I was going to mess that bitch up. They did this to me. I did nothing wrong, but they were hurting me.

Jerks.

Assholes.

Morons.

Idiots.

Bastards.

Bitches.

Mean.

They were being mean. They were being unkind, spiteful, unfair. They were vicious and aggressive in behavior. They were mean.

I glanced at the guitar in the corner of my room. I usually sang or played my guitar if I wanted to escape reality. This was one of those times.

I retrieved my guitar and sat on the edge of my bed. I began to pick at the strings until a tune came to mind. I grabbed my guitar pick and began to strum.

"You," I sang. "With your words like knives,

"And swords and weapons that you use against me.

"You have knocked me off my feet again.

"Got me feeling like I'm nothing.

"You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard,

"Calling me out when I'm wounded.

"You, picking on the weaker man.

"You can take me down with just one single blow.

"But you don't know, what you don't know....