(I Just) Died In Your Arms ~ Stanley Uris

033

School started up right on schedule, unlike the previous years of being postponed due to the annual snowstorms that presented the town with nearly a foot of snow in a single night. This year, the storm only lasted half of it's usual duration.

This was the first time I've set foot on campus since that day, the day where I dragged my battered body for hours while I nearly bled myself to death. Although, I'd rather not think of that as I stood in the exact same spot in front of the entrance with my backpack slung over one of my shoulders. I had enough to deal with today, and flashbacks will not be one of them.

"Are you sure you're okay? We can take you home, you know?" Mike said soothingly, since in his heart he knew my return would only bring trouble to my already troubled life.

"Y-Yeah, it d-doesn't have to be today." Bill added, his hand tugging back at my shoulder. I shook him off, letting out a long sigh.

"I can't miss another day. I hate it."

"Well, I'm here whenever you need me." Beverly smiled, kissing my cheekbone fondly with her hand still holding her lover's. I knew out of everyone I could trust Beverly, since she had experienced a similar event to mine with my dad's. I thought it would be Cynthia, but boy, was I wrong.

"Me too. Jules, you know everyone's talking about you. Don't engage, they're just dumb rumors." Stan encouraged wisely. My hand was slipped between his fingers, dangling between us, a feeling that still drove me crazy.

"I need to go to the bathroom, I'll see you in math?" I let go for a moment, and I saw his smile drop, holding me back even tighter.

"No, not by yourself. Have Cynthia go with you."

Right, like that would be so much better. I looked at her, my eyes narrowed. Her head hung low and avoided mine, looking awfully guilty. I didn't know if she remembered half of what she said, but by her demeanor I could observe she was sorry. I didn't care. Her words still hurt me more than anything. I loved her, you see, the most love I've had for a friend after Stan. It was absurd how quickly she disregarded the unconditional love I had.

To think she was so much better than everyone else, she was unlike the whole town, seemed comical now.

"I'll be just fine by myself." I smiled, leaning over and kissing Stan on his cheek, before walking into the long corridor lined with lockers. Maybe I'd do just fine on my own, that I didn't rely on my friends to do basic tasks, such as taking myself to the bathroom.

The washroom smelt like bleach, and there was already a crowd of yapping teenage girls gathered around the sinks, a couple of them even sitting on them. They were gossiping, but quickly stopped once I opened the door, eyes staring me down.

Then the whispers started. Like I couldn't hear them, but they were directly in from of my face, talking about me.

I could only discern bits and pieces of their whispers, but they were calling me a slut, talking about how I only missed school to hide my shame like a coward. Maybe if I showed them the scars and the slight dent in the back of my head, they'd shut up quickly. Nevertheless, I still followed Stan's instructions, and avoided even looking at them, ducking into a nearby stall.

I heard some moving around, a couple more snickers, then I glanced upwards to see a black bag of trash above my head, pouring all its contents all over me. It stunk, the soppy brown liquid and wads of paper towel clinging to my new sweater, ruining my freshly washed jeans.

All of the garbage pooled underneath me, and I looked up, disgusted with them, fuming with frustration. I just wanted to be normal, everything to go back the way it was, but clearly my peers wouldn't let me.