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With a quick movement, I tucked my eyes into the pockets of my Skirt, hoping to shield myself from her penetrating stare.
With my backpack securely in my grip, I made a desperate attempt to escape the confines of the bathroom.
Being in the same space as her and her cronies was becoming unbearable, the atmosphere filled with discomfort and insecurity.
I was almost there, on the brink of breathing freely again, when I heard Tresa's voice calling out to me from behind. My steps faltered, and I reluctantly turned to face her. The sight of her caused my heart to sink, resembling that of a lost child. Yet, she stood there with an air of confidence, hands on her waist, as if she were the queen of our little group, posing for the camera.
"You look ugly!" her words broke the silence, laced with both a hurtful and irritating tone. While her insult didn't come as a surprise, I couldn't help but question why I continued to allow Tresa to demean and humiliate me like this. It was as if she had transformed into the embodiment of a terrifying bully, and I found myself wondering how I had become her target.
Summoning the lessons my mother had taught me, I decided not to stoop to Tresa's level and respond with anger. Instead, I twisted her words and mustered a compliment in return. "Well, you look beautiful," I said, choosing to respond with kindness. I knew deep down that there is always beauty to be found even in the ugliness, but I also knew that it wasn't my place to enlighten Tresa on this truth.
"Why the makeup? You look like a clown," she questioned, her voice dripping with contempt. But she wasn't satisfied with just that.
"To look pretty, of course," I replied, my voice steady despite the sting of her words.
"And do you think you are pretty?!" she sneered.
"I do," I replied coolly, turning to walk away.
"If this makeup is for Dax, then you must be mistaken. You think you've won, huh?" Tresa's words caught me off guard, her accusing tone striking a nerve. She knew me too well, even though we weren't friends. And I thought I knew her too, the messy details of her life, but apparently, I was mistaken.
"I don't care what you think anymore. Isn't he your ex?" I shot back, unable to hold back the frustration that had been building inside me.
"He may be my ex, but that doesn't give you the right to take him!" Tresa's voice rose with anger, her tone changing from condescending to defensive.
"Do you think you have the right to have him? Dax is single now, isn't he? And I doubt you are," the words spilled out of me without filter, fueled by the mix of emotions swirling inside.
"It's none of your business," Tresa retorted, clearly not wanting me to pry into her personal life while she had no qualms about invading mine. Pathetic, really.
"And it's none of your business either," I shot back, unwilling to engage in a pointless battle that would only end with detention.
"You'll always be a nevertheless bastard girl!" Tresa blurted out, dredging up my painful family history. I couldn't believe she had just said that to me.
Was she determined to keep this fight going, to make it even more unbearable? She was like a demon disguised as a human, her words a dangerous temptation.
A temptation I knew I should resist, but one that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. It felt like slapping her across the face was the only response she deserved.
Yet, my heart weighed the potential consequences. If I gave in and slapped Tresa, it would lead to a whole host of problems. I could get detention or even be suspended from school, while she might escape any punishment because of the unfair treatment she often received as the school's queen bee. It wasn't fair, and it frustrated me to no end. But the biggest cost would be losing everything I had worked so hard for. This internal battle became the most powerful temptation, and I beseeched my conscience to resist.
Just as Jesus didn't succumb to the devil's temptations, I shouldn't either. I bit down hard on my lip, threatening to draw blood. I turned my back, intending to leave immediately. But of course, Tresa couldn't let me go that easily. She had something sinister brewing in her mind, and before I could escape the bathroom, she suddenly gave me a hard shove, sending me crashing to the ground. The force of it caught me off guard, but with every ounce of strength I possessed, I pushed myself back up. And it didn't stop there; she shoved me again. Oh, how desperately I wanted to fight back. But I refused to stoop to her level. Every time life knocked me down, I found the strength to rise again.
Resist, Skye. Resist! I repeated the mantra in my mind, trying to hold on to the reminder that fighting fire with fire only made the flames burn higher.
With renewed strength pulsing through my veins, I swiftly exited the bathroom, gripping my trusty backpack tight.
Yet, Tresa and her minions, tenacious as ever, refused to back down. They persisted in their pursuit, their presence echoing through the winding hallways of the school until I found myself backed into a corner. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon me, threatening to drag me under.
There, in the midst of this perilous predicament, Tresa materialized, exuding a toxic aura. "You'll never ascend to my level, Skye!" she spewed venomously, her words laced with malevolence.
"What level are you even referring to?" I couldn't help but challenge amidst the ceaseless chaos that surrounded us.
A wicked grin formed on Tresa's lips as she taunted, "You crave the crown, don't you?"
"What crown are you babbling about, Tresa? Frankly, I couldn't care less about any metaphorical crown you believe exists!" Confusion paled my features as I failed to comprehend the source of her mounting frustration.
"I absolutely despise your presence in this wretched school, Skye. I wish you could simply vanish, disappear for good, and forever remain hidden in the shadows as I've always seen you..."
"But I am already in the shadows!"
