𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂

ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ

Emoni's POV:

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Chapter Two: The Wounds Beneath

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It's been hours since I tried to fall asleep, but here I am, wide awake. Every little sound outside feels amplified in the quiet. The faint glow from the streetlight seeps through my curtains, casting shadows on my walls that flicker with every passing car. Somehow, the stillness of my room only makes it harder to relax.

My mind won't stop racing. I keep replaying everything from today-Ethan's smirk, the sneers on the bus, the whispers, and then, like clockwork, the memories of last year start flooding back. I can still feel the sting of my ex's words, that moment he told me I was "too much," like caring was something to be ashamed of. Why do I keep letting this hurt get to me?

My chest feels tight, and I can't seem to shake this heavy ache inside. I close my eyes, hoping maybe this time sleep will come. But instead, my thoughts start spiraling even deeper. What if I really am too much for anyone? What if this is just how people see me-clingy, naive, easy to hurt?

I force myself to check the clock. 3:42 AM. Another sleepless night. I let out a long sigh, feeling my chest tighten even more, and stare back up at the ceiling. It's just me and these thoughts, and it doesn't seem like they'll be leaving anytime soon.

THE BUS STOP

As I stand at the bus stop, the cool morning air nips at my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself for warmth. A few kids are huddled together nearby, talking excitedly about upcoming school events. I keep to myself, but their voices carry over, filling the quiet space.

"Are you going to the party this weekend?" one girl asks her friend, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I heard everyone's going-it's supposed to be huge."

The other girl nods, practically buzzing. "Yeah! And don't forget the pep rally tomorrow! I heard the cheer squad has this insane new routine they've been working on for weeks. It's going to be so cool."

Another student, a tall guy with a confident grin, chimes in. "And don't forget tryouts for the basketball team are coming up. You know Coach has been on the lookout for new talent," he brags, crossing his arms. "I'm basically already on the team."

His friends laugh and nudge him, playfully disagreeing. "Don't get cocky yet," one of them says. "There are still a lot of people trying out. And what about drama club auditions? They're looking for people for that play they're doing this semester."

I listen in silence, shifting my weight as I wait for the bus. I feel a pang of longing, a small part of me wishing I could join in on the excitement, feel like I belong to something. But the thought of putting myself out there, of trying out or attending a party where I'd be surrounded by people-it's overwhelming.

The rumble of the bus pulling up cuts through their conversation, and I exhale, grateful for the distraction. I climb aboard and find a seat, pulling out my phone as the bus fills with chatter about plans, hopes, and everything I somehow feel on the outside.

THE SCHOOL BUS

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As I climb onto the bus, I make my way to the very back, slipping into my usual seat by the window. The bus is mostly empty, just a few early risers slumped over their seats, earbuds in and heads down. I pull out my phone, scrolling aimlessly as I settle in. Outside, the sky is still a soft gray, with the first hints of daylight creeping over the rooftops.