That afternoon Mila comes to the house. Aside from thr dramatic trip to the police station with dad. I've spent the day in bed curled up in a ball. My body is still aching from last night's attack, I drag myself our of the bed, pull on some dark loose clothes, and meet her in the library. I expect her to be swated in one of her chic pencil skirts and blouses, but instead, she's pacing, not the usual cold demeanor she has. Her shiny black hair is in loose curls, and she's wearing jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I look at her in surprise.
"What happened to you?" I ask
"Never mind me, what happened to you?" She asks.
The bruise on my forehead has come up nicely, an enormous, cartoon-sized bump that today has turned a shade of yellow and black. My face is scraped from the twigsand branches that cut my skin. I sit in the armchair and wince from the pain in my stomach. My ribs aren't cracked, but they may as well be.
"Roseanne" she says with urgency in her voice and nothing but concern on her face. So I have to drop the act. "What happened?"
I sigh "Turns out there wasn't party. Not for me, any way"
"You were set up?"
"I believe the right term is ambushed" my eyes fill up at the memory of it, which is still raw in my mind and in my body. Each time I move, I feel the aches.
"The kid who invited you?"
"Leo Sy. L-E-O S-Y" I say slowly. sarcastically "S-Y. Sy" aren't you going to write that down? Oh no. Of course not, nothing that might make people pity me."
Her eyes are angry, but not at me "you don't want people's pity, Roseanne"
"I actually do." I half laugh. "I want everybody's pity because then I will know that everyone is a human, instead of whatever it is everybody now."
She sits down in the armchair across from me, but not delicately and primmy as before. She's on the edge, feet parted, elbows on knees; she's getting down and dirty today.
"What did he do?"
"Not just him. He had few friends. Their mission was to humiliate me."
"And did they?"
"Yea, big time"
"Tell me" she's being soft and patient, but underneath it there's a sense of urgency about her today, nothing calm and calculated like our previous conversations. The first time we met, Mila was in "Mila TV Personality" mode, then I saw "Off-duty Mila", but this woman is new, this is a side to her I've never seen. I have been gullible in the past, but I believe this person.
"They put sackcloth bag over my heas, tied me up, hit me, kicked me, dumped ashes on me, stripped me, and locked me in shed. That about covers it."
