Tattooed Hearts

Rainy Nights & Moving Forwards

Walking into school a week later was pure torture. Rumors spread like wildfire, and my school was in flames.

I heard one that I got in a street brawl. That was just dumb.

Another one was that I did I went crazy and did it to myself. That was bad.

A few people said that Isaac did it to me. That was the worst.

I told the police that it happened in Chicago. I was walking to the bus stop and ran into a group of boys. It wasn't very believable, but it was the only thing I could come up with to prevent myself from being sent to a foster home for a year.

And now, walking through the metal doors of the high school building, I can feel everyone watching me.

I'm still bruised. My stitches are being removed next week, but I am covering them with my clothes. And my black eye has gone away. But everyone knows. I can't decide if the look on their faces in of pity, or disgust.

I find my way to my locker, opening it and filling my bag with my books, intently listening to the shuffle of footsteps of people walking down the halls. The usual chatter resounds through it, and I feel in the same position I was at the beginning of the year.

I hear someone clear their throat, causing me to look up. A pair of dark, brooding eyes meet mine, I instantly take a step away.

"Looks like little princess got a few punches thrown at her, eh?" Connor sneers.

I shut my locker. "Don't test me, Connor. I can easily tell the entire school it was actually you that night."

He smirks. "No one would believe you. Besides, I know the full story. People are more likely to believe me."

"You know nothing." I practically laugh.

He grabs my wrist. Pinches one of the bruises on it. I bite my tongue, squinting my eyes, trying to hold back a yelp of pain. "It's funny that you think that, sweetheart."

I twist my arm, prying myself from his grasp. "What's more funny is you believing you still have some sort of power over me. I don't give a shit about you or what you do to me anymore. So you can gladly take your ego and shove it up your ass." I spit.

I turn to walk away but he pushes me against the lockers, pinning me down to where I can't move. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead I hear a voice shout from down the hall. "Hey!"

We both turn our heads, and next thing I know, I see a fist colliding with Connor's face. He stumbles backwards and I jump away from him.

"Whoops. I missed. I meant to go for your throat. Hope your face isn't too messed up, pretty boy," Braeden says to Connor curtly, crossing her arms over her chest. She turns to me. "Come with me."

She hurriedly walks down the hall and turns a corner, walking to a small cavern in the hallway leading to the janitor's closet.

"We need to talk." She tells me. It's the first time I've spoken to her since spring break.

"I agree. " Is all I say.

She takes a deep breath. "Look, I could spend hours apologizing to you. I could stand here and explain anything and everything to you, but it's not my place to tell you. So here; I'm really sorry Grace. Please accept my apology so we can move on?"