New significant characters in this chapter: Connor Owens
On the fifth floor, a room led her to a patio style tennis court, hung in midair five floors above the ground. Grunting sounds were the last thing she expected but as she opened the door, she was shocked to see five males beating up a student severely.
Judo. She was great at it. She was also a professional gymnast. She can take them. A few of them at least. She can do the person getting beat up a huge favor and give him a chance to run, and then run right after.
She can do it.
But chose not to.
Girls that are rich don't know how to fight. They have people that do that for them.
She nodded her head and turned to leave.
The click sound of the door closing wasn't at all alarming at first, until she tried to open the door and it wouldn't budge. As she looked at the small machine on the door asking for a pin number, her mind was washed out blank with fear.
Her body reacted by being fully alert. This was bad, she knew it was bad. She could feel the trouble that's coming up. She earnestly wished they wouldn't notice her–that if she kept her back turned, somehow she'll remain invisible.
She looked around. Even though she knew it was very unladylike and not an act a rich person does, she wished for a window she can jump in from. Or at the very least for the patio to have been a little closer to the ground. Even then she could have jumped down it easily, being a gymnast and all.
Luck wasn't on her side. Not even close. The air around her was heavy with moisture as a dreadful feeling licked her spine.
"Who the hell are you?" Someone insisted from behind.
She tried to convince herself that the question wasn't directed at her and decided to stay as she was, the back of a ghost.
"You! By the door!" The thick voice was terrifying. It sounded like one of the sumo wrestlers on TV. Thick and naturally angry.
Her brain took action. She turned slowly, stood straight on her feet and pursed her lips as she stared at the big guy.
Be the unknown. The camouflage they want to see.
"Are you talking to me?" Her voice was so little that for a second, she thought someone else had said what she did.
"Who am I looking at?" Connor Owens spat, his face full of anger.
"Well, I don't know. I mean, you could be cross-eyed." She knew she shouldn't have said it. And she knew she should've shut up afterwards. However sometimes, her mental state becomes dumbed down enough its nearly insulting to humanity as a whole. "You know those people with crazy eyes? Like they can be looking at you and stuff, but literally they're looking at something twenty five feet to the right side of you. Or the left. Wherever their eyes crazy point at." She laughed in stitches, swatting away at invisible flies, and clenching her shirt for dear life.
Everyone was so still, you could almost hear the sweat dripping from her neck and hitting the cement flooring. Even the poor guy getting beat up momentarily numbed down his pain and stared at her like she's a lunatic.
Which, she completely agreed, she was.
"You can also be legally blind." She continued, tapping her chin while lost in thought. "I mean, I know its a very low possibility," she kindly cleared for him, "considering you knew where his shirt was when you grabbed him," she pointed at the poor soul, "but I don't personally know you. In any case, I'm sure if there is anything wrong with your eyes, you'll get it fixed one day. You don't have to worry about it." Brush it off. Brush it off. "Hey, do you know the pin number to this door." Fake-laugh. Fake-laugh. "I'm so crazy. I thought this was the girls dormitory office."
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F.A.I.T.H.
Romance"I was broken. Nothing, no one could fix me. Until you came into my life again. I wish I had gone with you that day instead of him. Because, now I can't imagine how I spent the previous years of my life without you by my side. You are my savior. You...
