Daddy's Not Happy

I locked myself in a toilet and sat on it. Then my tears fell. I cried for so long I wasn't sure I had any water left in my body.

After staying in there for a while, I dried my tears and exited the toilet. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen from crying.

I quickly took out my makeup and applied some foundation around my eyes.

When I was sure I looked more or less normal, I left the bathroom and went to my next class.

I excused myself for being late to the teacher, then went to sit at a table at the far end of the room. Alone, as always.

When the class finished, I quickly walked out of the room and made my way to the cafeteria.

"Hey Pretty," David said as I arrived.

"Hey again," I said back, trying to smile the best I could. But obviously, he saw through my game.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Your eyes are red and your cheek is swollen. Have you been hit?" he asked, horrified.

"No of course not!" I said, a bit too quickly.

"You're lying," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"No, I'm not. Leave me alone David," I snapped. I left my untouched meal, and stood up, quickly walking to the exit door.

"You should talk to your father Skylar!" he called.

I ignored him as I passed through the door. He couldn't understand. Talking to my father would end in me being considered as a danger - or worse a freak - at school.

I made my way to my next and last class. It was a period I was sharing with Jessica and two of her friends.

"Oh would you look at that, she looks like a zombie. I wonder what could've happened to her," Jessica said to her friends, as she walked passed me.

I simply ignored her. This was a bad idea. She didn't like to be ignored. She turned to me and bent on my table.

"Are you ignoring me?"

I didn't answer.

"Oh you shouldn't do that Freak," she said.

At the mention of the name, my head turned to her. "Don't call me a freak, you whore!" I growled.

Jessica laughed. "Oh really? And what are you going to do?"

"Give you that slap back maybe," I said.

"Is that so? Then I should probably give you another," she taunted me.

Before she could anything, the teacher entered the classroom, stopping everything.

At the end of the day, David joined me on the bus.

"You're okay?" he asked.

"Why are you always asking me that? I'm not some fragile thing."

"Actually, yes you are. You never fight back," he reproached me.

"I fought back today! That's why she hit me," I said.

"So she did hit you. How could you let that happen?"

By that time, David and I were in front on my house's door.

"It wasn't my fault! What could I do to prevent that?" I asked, angry.

"Ignore her?"

"I did this afternoon, and if the teacher hadn't come in, I'm pretty sure I would have been hit another time."