Lost Without You (Justin Bieber Love Story)

Chapter 3-Trapped

The rest of my day, I was on edge. Justin couldn't stop staring at me in school all day. Had he noticed the blood? I didn't know. But he probably figured it out by then. I think most people did but didn't care enough to say anything.

Once again Justin didn't seem like himself around the girls. He seemed distracted, even though they were literally throwing themselves at him. I just didn't get it. If it was because of me, why would he care? Honestly, I didn't want him to care. I didn't need him to care. I didn't want to be helped. I couldn't.

*********************

I was at my locker. Eighth period had just ended, and I was getting ready to go home. Mostly everyone had rushed out since it was Friday. All of the sudden there were a bunch of girls from my class in their soccer uniforms. There was a home game today and they were heading outside. Gah! I wished I could've played. But I was not going through that again.

I was on the team and the girls started bullying me and beating me up on a weekly basis. They'd constantly tell me that nobody wanted me there and that I should quit. I never spoke up. If I had bruises, I'd just cover them up with makeup. If I was in pain and someone touched me where a bruise or cut was, I would bite down on my lip to keep from screeching. I never told anyone what was going on with me. I had just taught myself to keep quiet. I didn't want to tell people. And I was scared. This lasted for weeks, months. Over time, I just couldn't take it anymore — I quit the team.

I sighed as I watched them laugh and walk out the door. If only they hadn't been so cruel to me. But whatever, I guessed...It was what it was.

I zippered up my black puffy winter coat. It was so cozy and had a hood embroidered with brown fur. It even had big zippered pockets.

I saw some of the cheerleader-girls — they were getting ready to go to an away football game — walking down the halls in teeny tiny skirts.

Ew. And they call me a hoe... Yeah, okay.

Suddenly they noticed me. "Hey, Diana!"

Shit, shit, shit.

I closed my eyes and put my head deeper into my locker. These girls had beaten me up all the time. They were constantly on my case, and I didn't even know their names. I was scared. I didn't want another beating. My cut already re-opened that morning.

But, of course, the first girl noticed I was avoiding her and yanked my head back. "Hey, I'm talking to you, bitch!" She pulled my hair.

CHILL, FAM, OH MY GOODNESS.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I whimpered as she pulled harder. "I guess someone woke up on the wrong side of her obnoxiously priced yacht." I felt a hard slap across my face for that comment. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!" I shot back.

Another face-numbing slap.

"Why did Bryce even like you?"

"Good question. A better question: why didn't your parents use protection?"

"You really don't want to mess with me," she whispered.

I legitimately laughed. She was such a white bitch. "Oh, no! Are you gonna hit me with your bad-ass pom-poms? I'm so scared!" I mocked.

"You're not really in a position to talk, skank."

I laughed again. "Ha! I'm the skank? At least I didn't sell my nudes for a new cheer mat."