Being Bad For Good Sake

I Don't Need Your Pity

As I walked towards my class, my eyes caught sight of Marinette. She came to school today, and despite my initial happiness, rationality kicked in. I knew she was injured and shouldn't be here. I called out to her from behind, "Marinette, shouldn't you be resting? You were heavily inju-" but she interrupted me, likely not wanting anyone to know about it.

"Didn't you read the note I left for you?" I remained silent, fully aware that it was my fault. After a few awkward moments, I cleared my throat to break the silence. "We almost forgot about our assignment. I don't want to fall behind in academics. So, let's meet today at 5. I'll be wait--" She wasn't paying attention to me; her gaze was fixed on someone as if she were hiding from them. "Marinette! I'm talking to you," I got her attention before asking, "What happened, Marinette? Are you hiding from someone? You seem troubled." My worry was evident in my voice. "I'm not worried for myself, but for others. Especially you. Here she comes, hide..." she rushed, pointing out a hiding spot. "Where?" I asked, panicking, unaware of the danger. "There, hide in that locker."

I did as she said and hid in the locker, allowing me to observe the situation outside. Marinette tried to remain calm despite the tense atmosphere. A brunette with sausage-like hair, whose back was turned to me, seemed to be the instigator. I could see Marinette's face, initially showing an ignoring look, but her expression quickly changed when another girl entered the scene. This new girl had blonde hair and was wearing yellow.

The brunette directed her attention towards Marinette, taunting her by saying, "Well, well, well, look who is here." Blonde responded with a cold remark, "Someone who doesn't deserve to be alive." Another girl with specs chimed in, trying to defuse the situation by saying, "Cool down, we have a whole week. I don't want my entertainment to end this early. Right, miss trash..."

I felt a surge of anger at how they were treating her. How dare they speak to her that way?

I wanted to step out of the locker, but Marinette gestured for me to stay hidden. I watched in horror as the brunette with specs grabbed Marinette's collar and forcefully dragged her toward the locker where I was concealed. With a violent shove, she slammed Marinette against the locker. I couldn't comprehend why Marinette wasn't fighting back. She seemed to be holding in her emotions.

Before I could process what was happening, the blonde girl delivered a harsh punch to Marinette's stomach. I felt a surge of anger and concern. How could they be so cruel? I realized that Marinette still had a fresh wound from yesterday's injury, and the attack had caused it to reopen and start bleeding again. Those girls were heartless idiots, unaware of the pain they were causing.

The brunette with sausage-like hair finally intervened and halted the aggression. She straightened Marinette's collar and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. From my hidden vantage point, I could overhear her words. "Looks like I've won completely, Marinette. You're officially living in your personal hell. Wishing to be dead? Don't even try, 'cause you have a long life to rot in this hell before you go to another one." Her evil smile sent chills down my spine, but Marinette surprised me with her response.

With a chilling chuckle, Marinette whispered back, "Should we bet on who would wish to be dead first? Cause I'm sure it's going to be you. I really enjoy watching you suffer, but you'll always fail in the end. Your attempts to torture me are merely part of my daily routine." Her cold and fearless demeanor made her even scarier than her tormentors. 

After the confrontation, the tormentors eventually left the scene. As they disappeared, I cautiously emerged from my hiding spot. Marinette's condition didn't seem too severe, but I still felt a pang of concern for her well-being. "It's not too bad, but open wounds can easily get infected. Let me help you," I offered, reaching for a handkerchief to tend to her wound.

However, instead of accepting my help, Marinette shook my hand away angrily. Confusion filled my mind as she spoke with frustration, "Please drop that act. I know you've been spying on me from the beginning, keeping tabs on my every move. You never liked me from the start, and the assignment was just an excuse. You could have helped me at the airport, or even in the library, but you did nothing. I don't want pity from someone who's been spying on me. So stay away from me."

Her words hit me like a sudden blow, and I was at a loss for words. I couldn't comprehend why she believed I had been spying on her or why she thought I had ulterior motives. It felt as if she was pushing me away, even though moments ago we had been on good terms. Despite her insistence that I should leave, I couldn't help but sense a hint of desperation in her voice, as if she secretly wanted me to stay. Yet, I couldn't let wishful thinking cloud my judgment. She made it clear that she wanted me to stay away, and I had to respect her wishes. If she didn't want my help or presence, then so be it. I left for my class, feeling a mix of disappointment and confusion lingering within me.

As some time passes, I couldn't shake off the lingering sense of disappointment and confusion. I wondered what had gone wrong, how our once amicable connection had become strained. However, dwelling on these thoughts wouldn't change the reality of the situation. Marinette had made her stance clear, and I had no choice but to abide by it.

Marinette's POV -

After witnessing the events unfold before my eyes, a wave of worry washed over me. If those individuals discovered Damien's connection to me, they would stop at nothing to sever our friendship. They were ruthless, with no regard for the collateral damage they caused in the pursuit of their goals. It became clear to me that taking matters into my own hands was the safest option. Ending our friendship would ensure everyone's safety.

I convinced myself that Damien's friendship held no significant value to me, and I assumed he felt the same way. Using his initial disbelief in me as an excuse, I decided to transform our relationship into that of distant classmates. It was a defense mechanism, a way to shield myself and keep him at arm's length.

However, deep down, a part of me questioned the path I had chosen. Was I truly doing the right thing? Had I let fear and the actions of others cloud my judgment? The nagging doubt weighed on my conscience, but I suppressed it, believing that distance was the only way to protect him.