your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

nine

The next day, my dad was awake since he was going back into work today. I had changed into an outfit for the day, still a little bit down from the news report yesterday.

Luna and her family were pretty much my non-biological cousins and aunts and uncles since I've known them for so long. Having something so tragic like murder happen near them really makes me worry for them, especially because they're good people and they don't deserve that to happen near them.

"You alright?" My dad asks, throwing on his work suit's blazer. He was going to take me to school today.

It was October, which meant two things. The first was that Halloween was three weeks away which also means it's almost my eighteenth birthday. The second thing is that I now have three weeks to complete the social studies project with Brad and we were only halfway done.

"I'm fine," I assure my dad as I grab a jacket from the coat rack. It was cold outside but it wasn't raining so I didn't see the point of bringing a heavy coat with me.

"I finished sorting through the stuff," my dad says and I follow him into the kitchen. There were a few photo frames on the side that he hadn't packed nor put into the rubbish bag.

He reaches for them and holds them in his hands nervously. I frown at him, "Where are they going?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep these or not," he smiles at me, slowly handing them over to me and I take them in my hand.

I look over the photo frame on top, it had a black rim and inside of it was a secure photo of me and a tall boy. His black hair wasn't styled and it was messy and in one hand was a lit cigarette while his other hand was around my shoulder. We were in Barbados on holiday, and I was only thirteen while he was fifteen.

I smile sadly at the picture, the memory vivid in my mind. I remember everything I did with the boy, he was my best friend after all.

"I didn't know I had this still," I say, putting it to the table only for another picture of us to be at the top instead.

This time he was giving me a piggy back and I had a huge smile on my face. He was taller than me, I've always been small. He was sixteen, and he was going to be taking his GCSE's not long after. I was fourteen and I had no cares in the world because I had my best friend with me.

The third and final picture frame held a picture of him at his prom when he was seventeen and he wore a black suit. He wanted to take a picture with me because he wanted me to go with him but I wasn't allowed because I wasn't in the same school year. His arms were around my waist as he stood from behind and I wore some jeans and a shirt since it was a normal day for me. I had a huge smile on my face, I was so proud of him for graduating.

It's a shame I was so happy that day, because I haven't been that smiley since then because that was the last day I ever saw him.

"Do you want to keep them?" My dad asks me as he grabs some food out of the fridge. My hair had hidden my face and I didn't realise I was crying until a teardrop fell onto the picture.

I quickly wipe the tears away and nod, "yeah, put them in the boxes, though." My dad takes them and puts it in the final box before we leave for school.

I didn't want to be so upset over some pictures of my old best friend, but I couldn't help but think of how happy I was when I was with him. Tears well up in my eyes and I sniff quietly so my dad doesn't realise I'm saddened.

When I arrive at school, I muster a smile and kiss my dad's cheek before getting out of the car. Some people were gawking over how new and expensive it is but I ignore them as I make a beeline straight for tutor.

I push past the crowds of students as everyone stalls going to their respective classrooms and I groan out as I bump into someone's chest.

"Someone's in a rush," Brad's familiar voice rings through my ears. He was the last person I wanted to see this morning.

I look up at him and roll my eyes, "can you move? You're making me late to tutor."

"Tutor's boring, I don't know why you want to go," he chuckles at me and I let out a frustrated sigh. He tilts his head as he looks into my eyes and I quickly turn my head. "You've been crying."

"Yeah."

"Did daddy get you the wrong coloured iPhone?" He pouts at me in an attempt to patronise me. "Or did you finally realise no one likes you? You took your time to realise."

I roll my eyes, my fists clenching. I just wanted to get through today without Brad annoying me, I was already sad enough.

"Can you please move?" I ask, noticing the corridor clearing up, a few people glancing at us. We were being far from friendly to each other. I attempt to step to the side and walk around him but he just follows me.

"I'm trying to figure out why you've been crying," he raises his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. "Did your butler burn the toast? Did—?"

"Can you move out of my way?" I ask, still trying my best to stay composed. I didn't want to be a hypocrite and have a go at him, because I didn't like it when he spoke to me in the same way.

"I don't know, can I?" He raises his eyebrows. "How about we make a deal? You tell me what got you so upset and I'll move out of your way."

"It doesn't matter to you why i was sad," I shrug him off. "So can you just move?"

"Why won't you tell me?"

"It's none of your business," I answer.

"It must be something small," he concludes. "Too embarrassed to tell me? Think I can't relate because you think you have a bigger house than me, a better life—?"

"Oh my god," I groan out in frustration. "Why are you always assuming things about my home life? I get it, I judged you based off of rumours and I shouldn't have, but my life is far from perfect. So stop being a little bitch and grow up—!"

His demeanour changes straight away and from provocative to annoyed. His fists clench for a second and I don't have chance to move out of his way as he pushes me against the wall, my head slamming against it and all the blood rushes to my head.

"You think you can speak to me like that, huh?" He growls out at me. "You better open your eyes and realise that I can fucking destroy you before you can even blink."

His outburst was surprising since all I ask him to do was move out of the way. He aggravated me, trying to get that sort of reaction out of me, and now he's overreacting.

"Do you bloody mind? I'm just trying to get to tutor, I didn't ask for you to come over here and bitch me out about being sad," I spat, my blood starting to boil. All I wanted was a normal school day and of course, that could never happen with the infamous Brad Simpson who tried to make me feel like shit.

His hands were now gripping onto my hands tightly and I wince at the sharp pain shooting through my body as he scowled at my anger.

He notices how red my wrists were going and he lets go, and I rub them to help the pain subside. I'm sure there'll be bruises there.

He turns on his heel, walking away without another word with his mouth agape. He was heading straight for the school's exit. I glance at the floor, the corridor entirely empty yet I was so embarrassed.

Today was already going disastrously wrong.

unedited.