Blues

40. Black & Blue

"Black and blue, I'm begging you
Take me in, I'm surrendering
Black and blue, but if I'm with you
If I'm with you, I'll live to fight on through."
Black and Blue by Sia

______________________

I do the first thing anyone in my place would do, my gaze shooting up to discern whoever did it, only to find every single one in the room staring at me like I'm the most regaling TV show. I distinguish unseemly smirks, and quizzical scrutiny, all directed unabashedly at me.

“What the fuck?” I can't help but exclaim in a choleric, baffled voice. “Whoever threw that at me?”

The smirks oddly skyrocket, but some people do actually turn around, presenting me with their backs​, and just as I start to question them again, I behold it.

The whiteboard.

No, let me rephrase that. I rather descry what's written on it.

'How much would your whore mom take per night, Candice Woods?’

I blink, and blink, and blink, trying to apprehend what I'm seeing. It just feels so surrealistic; the grievous​ humiliation, along with smudged memories, and devastated aspirations of me starting anew. Everything I have been building, all those secrets I've been hiding; they all clobber me in the head, and what's really wretched, is that I'm the one who shatters into a million piece, rather than them.

“What's going on here?” I hear Trent's voice. It feels like it shirks into my miserable figment, but then, to my horror, the whole scene turns out to be so real, and the words scribbled on the whiteboard are far from fanciful. I move my fallen gaze to the source of the sound, perceiving him and Dylan, whose gaze is trained on the whiteboard.

“What the fuck is that?” Dylan speaks first, his extremely quiet, but limpid voice breaking the stillness that has prevailed. No one responds, and I stay purely dumbstruck. “I want an answer, now.” He adds when no one answers, his voice becoming edgy, the threat unmistakable.

“We found it when we came in.” A blonde at the front responds, shrugging.

Dylan hums, parading toward me. He doesn't meet my eyes, but I notice it; the baldfaced menace. It would make the hairs on the back of my neck stand, but right now, I'm pretty much lifeless, unable to do anything but watch, and truth be said, I probably wouldn't have done anything, if I had vibrance in me.

What would you do in a situation like this?

He snatches the panties, turning around to face the room. “And that? Did you find her holding it like that when you came in?” He asks, his despotic voice ruling the entire room. “I hate asking things twice.” He continues when everyone remains silent.

“You weren't that protective of her a couple of days ago.” A guy objects, cocking his head to the side. “What are you going to do about it anyway? If her mom is a whore, no one can change it.”

My heart falls to the most sawed-off level I can feel in my flaccid body. It hurts; knowing that my mom is being disgraced, even dead. My insides battle, wanting me to lunge at him and cut him limp from limp, before I finish the rest of the class off, but no adverse urge is capable of moving me. It feels like all the fight in me has died off, and I'm here, something that I've been refusing to become for years now.

The victim.

The room stays mum for seconds, before the place turns to chaos. One second Dylan is standing in his place, and the second he has the guy by his collar, insensately jerking him out of his chair. My eyes widen, and I instinctively shoot out of my chair, covering my open mouth with my hand, watching a new side of Dylan as it unleashes like a goddamn beast. He drives the guy hard against the wall, and the guy yowls with anguish. “What the hell, man!”