My next class goes by just as quietly. Kind of boring, honestly. But I’m thankful for boring right now. I’ll take boring.
Mid-class, I get the worst cramps, and it dawns on me that I’m probably starting my period soon. I raise my hand, asking to use the bathroom, and get a pass from my teacher.
Walking down the empty halls, I rummage through my bag to find a pad, praying I have one. When I walk into the bathroom, I take in the quiet…the peace. I might actually be able to do this, get through this day, through the rest of the year.
When I step back out of the stall, I walk up to the sink and wash my hands, staring up at the mirror, giving myself a silent pep talk. I channel my inner Simone and tell myself to keep my head held high. I’m not who they say I am. I’m not what they think I am. I have to write my story, and I’m not giving the pen to anyone else.
My phone buzzes, and I shake my wet hands in the air before pulling it out and reading the text from Simone.
Simone:I told you everything was gonna be okay! Ohhh, definitely need to know what happened with John! Call me after school! Love you!
I’m about to text her back when my phone is ripped from my hand, and a sharp shove sends me crashing against the sink, pain radiating through my spine.
“What the hell?” I gasp.
I look up to see three girls who had to have just walked in. They’re all looking at me with this self-righteous hate in their eyes, like they deserve to do whatever they’re about to do. Wherever this is going, I know it won’t be in my favor.
“You should have never come back here,” one spits at me.
I grip the sink behind me, panic rising. They have my phone, and everyone is in class right now. They have all the power here. I’m outnumbered and cornered like a wild animal.
“You think we’d just let themurderercome back and walk these halls like nothing ever happened?”
They all laugh, but it’s the furthest thing from friendly.
“Eli was one of my best friends,” another girl says, starting to fake cry.
I’ve never seen this girl a day in my life. Eli sure as hell never talked about her. So either hehas a lot more that he was hiding from me—which I actually don’t doubt—or the more likely option, which is she’s just full of shit.
“You told him to kill himself,” she continues. “What kind of sick freak does something like that to someone they love? You never deserved him. Maybe you’re the one who should have killed yourself. Nobody would be missing you right now like we’re all missing him.”
I know her words shouldn’t affect me, but they do. They hit me straight in the gut. A low blow confirming all my insecurities.
I start to dig my nails into the palm of my hands, trying to regain some control, trying not to let the anxiety take over.
“You think you can just come back here now and not pay for what you did?”
“I didn’t—”
As soon as the words start to leave my lips, everything happens fast. I don’t even have time to react. A hand slams into my cheek, and another one of the girls grabs my hair, yanking hard. I scream as they push me down, kicks landing against my ribs. My cries drown in their insults and their fists. Darkness clouds my vision as I try to shield my body. I don’t even have the chance to speak, to plead, to make them stop. They wouldn’t care what I said anyway. They came here looking for blood, and that’s what they’re getting.
I feel the burning of my skin from their nails, the pain in my stomach from being kicked, and the ache in my head from hitting the ground. I keep trying to fight back, but there are three of them and only one of me. All I can do is pray they don’t kill me right here in this bathroom.
I turn my head, spitting out blood, when I hear more commotion behind them. I start to see teachers grabbing at each one of the girls, pulling them off, and yelling at everyone around to back up.
Everything starts to fade as soon as the beating stops. I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to know if I’m even fully safe. I can’t fight off the wave of exhaustion that quickly pulls me under without warning.
When I wake up, I look around to see that I’m lying in a hospital bed and my skull is pounding. I turn my head and see Sarah standing outside the door through the window. Her arms are crossed, and she’s talking to a doctor, along with another lady in a suit I don’t recognize, and then Mark is off to the side.
It takes me a second to come back to the reality of what happened. I’ve been in fights before…but I’ve never been jumped like that. Never felt that kind of helpless pain and panic before. All for something I didn’t even do, all from a story a boy I thought I loved left the world with. How ironic was the brief moment of relief I felt guilty for feeling after he died, just for him to still find ways to keep hurting me?
I thought I had escaped any more physical pain he could cause…but, guess I was wrong.
Sarah looks over her shoulder into the room and catches my eye. I can’t make out the look in her expression. Tired? Overwhelmed? Sad? Annoyed?
A moment later, she and Mark walk into the room alone. Mark grabs my bag while Sarah walks over to me. She bends down and places a hand on my shoulder as I’m still lying down.
“How are you feeling?” she asks in a low voice.
