Wronged

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QOC: Why did you even continue reading this disastrous story?? Lolz. Real question: Do you guys want me to update on a regularly set schedule? Cuz I'm kind of all over the place all the time.

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- Anna's POV -

We sit by the chain link fence, staring at his limp figure on the ground. Hayley goes to pull her phone out and dials Aiden again since I left mine lying there on the ground. And there's no way in hell that I'm going back over to his unconscious body.

I stare at him with wide eyes, making sure he doesn't move. A few of the students give him a weird look, but just keep walking along. They have no idea what just happened.

Hayley touches my shoulder, to which I flinch when I make contact with. She gives me a sorry look and retracts her hand understandingly with a sad smile as she continues speaking into the phone.

Nico finds us, breathing hard with his eyes wild and frantic. He immediately bends down to meet me. "You alright, shortie? I ran out of that building as fast as I could after Aiden called. I'm so sorry."

I want to tell him that I'm fine. That I'm not traumatized. That I wasn't just hit with a whirlwind of painful memories. I want to say that he shouldn't call me shortie. I want him to tease me and just use the nickname again anyway. But I don't.

I just start crying.

I tuck into myself and start sobbing hysterically. Usually, if I ever do cry, it's quiet sniffles or occasion soft whimpers. Never do I break into loud corruption.

But I'm scared. I'll always be scared.

"You'll always lose."

"You're mine, and no one else's."

"I'll never stop coming for you."

"I need you, princess."

These were always things he constantly said among other derogatory phrases. He'd often throw in the words "whore" or "slut" or something along those lines just for the hell of it. Or maybe he meant it. I'm not sure.

The way he yells it and screams it. The way he makes it sound so deafening and final. That's what scares me. It makes me feel like I'll never ever get away from him.

And maybe I never will.

I tremble and cry my eyes out, knowing good and well that some of my peers were staring at me awkwardly and maybe pitifully as they walked by. But for once, I don't care if they see me. I don't care if they see the real emotions I always hold back.

"Aw, shortie. Don't do that," Nico says. I hear him sigh when I continue to anyway before he pulls me into him. But I don't feel any comfort, regardless of the fact that he's become one of my closest friends. I don't feel safe. Hayley joins in and pats my back gently as her head lays on my shoulder. But even that doesn't do much justice.

"Anna!"

At the sound of his voice, I look up. My face is most likely a complete sign of a wreck. And I would typically hate that. Not because of how I look, but because of what it represents: weakness and brokenness. That's what I dislike.