𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 ☽ 𝕒𝕙𝕤

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊

𝚙𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 - 𝚏𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎

☽

The morning bell rings and I enter my first class. As the other students file in, I keep my eyes on a seat in the corner of the room. I try to keep my head down as I cling on to my bag strap for dear life.

Although the bell has already gone, there are only around five other students, and the professor still isn't here. I stare at the corner of the wall, avoiding eye contact from any of the others.

I can hear the footsteps of more students coming into the classroom but I still keep my eyes fixed on a grey chip in the plaster.

'Good morning everyone!' the professor booms as he marches into the classroom and slams a pile of books onto his desk, making me jump.

'Welcome back,' he says, his enthusiasm already fading, 'hope you all had a good summer break,' he sighs. 'Now turn to page 136 in your textbooks, read through and complete the questions.' 

He scratches his balding head and slumps onto his chair.

This is okay. I think to myself. It doesn't look like he's going to point me out. I can just blend into the background and at least just get through today.

'Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention...' he says, leaning over on his desk and moving his glasses further down his nose, 'we have a new student joining us today.'

I freeze. He's staring right at me, followed by the other kids. Thirty pairs of eyes all on me, and I'm just sitting there not knowing what to do.

After what feels like twenty minutes but was probably only a few seconds, the students are mostly disinterested in me. Apart from a group of girls in front of me, snickering and looking back at me.

There are three of them, a brunette in the middle that appears to be the leader of their little clique.

Our eyes meet and I deflect my gaze onto my paper and don't dare to look at anything else. I keep my head down once again and just get my work done.

I can occasionally hear them whispering about me and feel their scrutinising eyes fixed on me.

I shrug it off, and eventually the bell rings to mark the end of the period. Thank god.

I shove my things back into my bag and head for the door. I squeeze past the three girls from earlier on the way out.

'That must be the freak who moved into the murder house,' the shorter one giggles, and my eyes lock with the brunette's.

I squeeze my hand into a fist around my bag strap, burning red crescent marks in my palm.

They go to walk away.

'Hey!' I shout back at them, trying hard to mask my shaking voice.

The brunette turns around first, with an ugly smirk on her face. She crosses her arms, waiting for me to make a move.

'If you've got something to say, say it to my face,' I retort, standing up a little taller to match her height as she walks toward me. I stand my ground.

'I said,' she replies walking even further toward me until she's inches away from my face, 'You're that freak that moved into the murder house.' She whispers evilly.

I stand back, 'You call it that?'

'Yeah,' the girl on the right says. 'Everyone does.'

'You're going to die in there,' The one on the left sniggers.

The first girl is still right in front of me.

'You know what? Get the hell away from me,' I raise my voice, shoving her, hard.

I go to turn away, but she grabs my wrist and digs her nails into my arm.

'You don't know me - why are you doing this?'

I turn back around and yank my arm out of her grip.

The other girls come forward and stand behind her like bodyguards.

' Don't you dare talk to me like that,' she hisses, and before I can reply, her hand swings across my face, making my cheek burn. I stagger back and run away, spitting back in her direction for good measure.

She makes a shrill growling kind of sound and stamps her foot on the ground like a child who has just been told they can't have candy. It's funny watching the popular kids squirm.

I start to notice that for the rest of the day everyone stares as I walk past. I don't know if it's because of the fight or the fact that everyone seems to know I'm 'the freak that moved into the murder house'.

I decide to just keep my head down and ignore the comments and whispering. The rest of the day goes by painfully slowly.

✧✧✧

I shut the door behind me and the lock clicks. I try to walk past without meeting any of my parents but my mum sees me again.

'Hey, honey,' she calls from the kitchen, 'how was school?'

'Yeah, it was... good,' I lie.

'That's great! Go do your homework, dinner will be ready in an hour.'

I walk up the stairs and down the hall to my room. I throw my backpack down at my bed post.

'What happened to your lip? Are you okay?' Tate says, standing up from my bed. I hadn't noticed he was there. My hand moves up to my lip, stinging from the salt on my fingers.

'Oh... No, I'm okay, just some bitches at school,' I shrug, rolling my eyes. 'It's fine.'

'No, it's not fine, you shouldn't have to deal with their shit,' he says defensively, leading me to sit down on the bed next to him. 'If I had it my way, no one would ever hurt you again.'

I sigh and look down. Tate puts a finger underneath my chin and gently lifts up my eyes to meet his. He brings his hand up and carefully wipes the blood off my cut with his thumb.

The more I look into his eyes, the more I lose myself in them. Tate is the first person that's ever cared about me like this.

✧