'Some days are bad...some are just outright crappie'
I shuffle from one to foot to the other with a mixture of anxiety, anticipation, and intimidation encapsulating me as I stand in Enrique's office awaiting his remarks on my report.
But this being Enrique it's nearly impossible for me to gain any solace from reading his expressions...because he doesn't let any pass past the barrier of impassiveness he has up.
"You can do better," he concludes once he's done scrutinizing the report that took me the entire weekend to write. I just stare at him blankly.
"I want this rewritten," he instructs authoritatively putting down the report on his desk. I bite back my whine of protest.
'There's no point in arguing anyway' I deduce before nodding stiffly in compliance.
"Wesley is dropping you off to school," he informs me in a dismissive tone. I nod once again, before scrambling out the doors, grabbing my backpack, and heading out.
The drive to school turns out to be evidently tense. Wesley hasn't said a word to me after our exchange in his study the other day, and I haven't made any attempts at initiating conversation either.
He drops me off at the front entrance and I wordlessly exit the car. From my peripheral vision I notice he hasn't left yet, he's waiting from me to enter the building. I inwardly roll my eyes at this blatant mistrust in me.
Just as I enter the building I'm notified on the group chat that Graham, Mercy and Mason are all apart of, that neither of them are coming to school today. Their excuses range from stupid to stupider...in my opinion.
'This day just keeps getting from crappie to crappier'
The rest of the day is agonizingly slow. My eyes somehow always find their way back to my phone screen to watch as the minute's tick by.
Slouching in my seat, I pull at the sleeves of my oversized hoodie--that I may or may not have stolen from Kayden--I bury my head in my hands as the familiar feeling of pain spreads through the muscles of my back...Aunty Flow knocking at my door.
A few factors are holding me back from bursting into tears right now, one being my social anxiety and the other my utter distaste towards calling attention to myself.
I start to muster up the courage to ask Mrs. Helen--my history teacher--permission to use the restroom. I breathe in and they exhale from my mouth, thinking my words through before uttering them.
'Hey, Mrs. Helen can I use the restroom?'
'Mrs. Helen is it cool if I use the restroom?'
'Ma'am, can I be excused, I need to use the restroom?'
I hate how awkward I can make each one of them sound in my head, my social anxiety not helping the fact that I need to voice this in front of the entire class while interrupting her class.
I sigh and breathe in deep again, before sliding a tampon up my hoodie sleeve being as discreet as I can.
'I can do it. It's just one stupid sentence' I reassure myself, and before I can overthink it again, my hand shoots up in the air calling the lesson to a halt.
All eyes move to me. I gulp. Anxiety floods my veins, as my heart rate accelerates.
"Yes, Ms. Hart?" Mrs. Helen quirks her brow pushing her thick black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"Ma'am..." I clear my throat, gulping down the anxiety that's choking me. "May I use the restroom?" I ask in a fast-paced yet hesitant tone.
She takes me a moment to analyze me, her eyes zeroing on mine. My anxiety grows.
"Of course," she nods and I'm out the door as soon as those words leave her mouth.
The rest of the day consists of me dealing with cramps spreading from my back to my stomach, the constant craving for fried chicken--yet getting none--and constant checks to make sure my clothes are fine.
It doesn't help that the one time I spot Daniel in the hallway he doesn't so much as spare me a meager glance of acknowledgment. And to my over-hormonal self, that mere gesture or lack thereof has me inferring this day to be one of the most crappiest ones ever.
The rest of the day--which consists of yet another three hours of being in this antagonizing place--finally comes to an end with me being the lowest I've possibly ever been. To an extent that for the first time--since being on the team--have I bunked debate practice.
Praying my misery is soon to meet its demise, I drag myself towards the bus station.
Why didn't I just call someone to get me? --I don't know.
I just power through the pain and discomfort and keep walking. 'Wesley probably has better things to do than be my chauffeur anyway' I assure myself about my decision.
'They probably think I'll ask Graham to drop me off, which I probably would if he ha--
"Hey, we're kinda lost can you help me out?" A stranger's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I frown looking around for the owner of the voice, only to spot a sliver sedan halted a little ahead of me. A man's head peeking through the driver's side window, while the lady in the passenger seat is occupied with her phone.
I cautiously approach them, having looked around and finding that I'm the only one they could possibly be directing their words towards.
"Hi." The driver beams, having finally caught my attention. His sunglasses sitting at the lower portion of the bridge of his nose exposing his bright blue eyes.
'He's nose is a bit crooked' I notice randomly. 'Probably had it broken...or something
"We were looking for the nearest gas station, but our GPS is acting wacky. Do you think you could point us in that direction?" He asks nicely.
I nod, "it's just dow--" I cut myself off when I realize the direction their car is pointing towards.
Trepidation clouds my judgment. I discreetly take in a shakey breath, knowing that if they had come from that direction, then they have definitely crossed the gas station not so long ago.
My mind runs a mile a minute trying to figure out how to get myself out of this situation. But fear compiled with anxiety and pain, doesn't leave me with favorable odds.
"It's down the street that way," I tell them nonchalantly, pointing them down the road I emerged from and in the opposite direction they came from.
"Are you sure?" He quirks his brow. "'Cause, we have been circling this block and haven't found it yet. And my cars is almost out," he explains, just as the woman in the passenger seat puts down her phone and focuses on our exchange.
Her expression in a contrast to his displaying impatience and just a hint of detectable annoyance.
"Could you maybe ride along with us till her?" He asks, with uncanny politeness that causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand in the attention of the impending potential danger.
"I'm sorry, my brother is waiting for me by the bus station," I decline as politely as I can.
"We can drop you off back there," he offers.
"No thank you, I'll hope you find the gas station. I need t--" An unanticipated force grips my hand and before I process anything I find myself being shoved in the car, with a hand clasped around my mouth muffling my cries for help.
I thrash in the arms of my attacker, kicking, pushing, doing any movement I can with all the force at my disposal to get away from them.
"Hurry the fuck up!" The man exclaims letting me know, that it's the woman who's holding me hostage.
I use all my strength to prevent myself from fully being shoved into the car, with my legs still successfully hooked to the outside of the door I'm being shoved through.
"Fucking bitch!" The woman cusses, striking me across my cheeks and twisting my arms at a painful angle behind my back.
"Fuck! Alice get in! Get the fuck in!" The man yells frantically just as the sound of a overbearing horn and multiple yells reaches my ears.
"Leave the girl, get the fuck in!" He commands, just as their car engine roars to life.
The pressure holding me disappears in a snap, only to have inertial send me flying out of the now fast-moving car and onto the hot concrete road.
I helplessly let my body roll on the ground, my eyes shut on their own accord, my mind numb to any pain. And soon everything stops. I come to a stop.
Mustering the courage to peel my eyes open, I spot a crowd gathered around me and at a short distance I zero on a bus from which the people of the crowd are pooling out of.
"Are you alright?" An elderly lad approaches me. Instinctively I flinch away, pushing myself off the ground and away from the people around me.
"Honey it's okay," she assures me holding out a hand to me, which I refuse to take.
'I want my mum'
"Can you tell me your name?" She asks nicely, while the rest just continue to stare at me, some even have their phones out clearly recording all of this.
I bury my head in my hands to shield my identity, as all the trauma my body has just been through slowly starts to make itself known.
"The cops are on their way." The same lady informs me--her body moving in front of me preventing the others from filming me clearly.
"Is there anyone you could call?" She asks.
I immediately start searching for my phone, which I find not long after tucked away in my pocket now sporting a cracked screen and damaged front camera.
I robotically tap my emergency contact--mum's number. Pressing it to my ear, despite the heaviness of my head building up to a headache and protest of my injured arm I wait patently only to be greeted by her voicemail.
Dejection suppresses my physical pain. Everything around me feels surreal, my pain numbed considerably by the adrenaline rush. All I can't think of right now is how bad I want--no need--my mum.
The second time I try yet again I'm sent straight to voicemail, and I give up. Everything seems hazy. I tap the first number on my speed dial list, having now more than ever the sheer need to see a familiar face, hear a comforting voice...anything that could make me feel safe.
"Is this urgent?" Enrique's impassive tone greets me after the very first right. Just his voice is enough to let my guard slip down a bit as an unexpected whimper leaves my lips.
"Olivia, what's wrong?" He questions. I search my mind for words.
"Olivia?"
"I-I there..the car-a car." My thoughts scrambled beyond the point of reassembly at this point, yet I try my best to formulate a coherent sentence.
"Where are you Liv?" He asks, a certain gentleness to his tone making me want to break down crying right that instant.
"Before--station, bus station," I explain.
"Before the bus station?" He clarifies.
"Yeah," I whimper as pain and reality set in and the adrenaline and shock wear out.
"Don't hang up, I'm on my way," he assures me as the rustling of keys and shuffling of feet linger in the background.
"Are you hurt?" He asks momentarily.
"I-I," I clear my throat. "I think," I mumble, refusing to assess my injuries myself--or even look at them.
"What hurts, sweetheart?" He inquires gently. His tone and endearment not helping my emotional state as I hold back my tears.
"Everything," I whimper.
"We're almost there," he assures me. "Is there anyone around?" He asks.
"Yeah," I mutter softly, eyeing the crowd that has now formed a densely populated circle around me.
"Okay, just stay calm for me okay? I'm seconds away," he says before the line goes dead causing a surge of panic to rise within me that is only calmed when I spot a familiar black SUV coming to a screeching halt a little distance away from me.
I push myself off the ground with what little energy I have left and the moment I lock eyes with Enrique's familiar dark ones I drag my bruised toward him as fast as my shaky legs can take me.
"What the hell happened here?" Wesley's voice laced with disbelief and concern rings from behind Enrique.
Enrique wastes no time in wrapping me in the security of my arms pulling me securely against his chest, shielding me from everything. Giving me the one thing I'm in most need of --comfort.
Author's Note :
A big thank you to all my readers for being so patient with me this update. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
This chapter is sponsored by the idiot bus driver who almost crashed into me and caused me to crash my brand-new EV. At least I got a chapter out of it...
I also want to just thank you all for all your prays, thankfully my mum is back from the hospital. Still a little weak but much much better.
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~Kia