Something about the day felt bright.
Like, let's be honest here, it's totally not normal for an average and extremely hormonal sixteen year old girl to be feeling this good on a Monday morning. Especially a Monday Morning. Normally every day I feel like crap anyway, so this was definitely alien to me.
I woke up from a blissful sleep feeling like the heavens were singing. Mum and Jared weren't at home, and the house was in a peaceful quiet, not the eerily gloom that's hover in the atmosphere each morning.
Normally days like this, tend not to turn out very well. Especially for me. Yet despite it all, I decided not to imagine the inevitable.
After I'd taken a lengthy shower as I had time to spare, and dressed normally for school, I stood before the body-length mirror in my room and looked back at the gleaming girl in the reflection. Any other day, I'd have picked out imperfections straight away, maybe assessed my body and decided I should quit eating jam doughnuts – which I never really lived up to. But today the girl in the mirror looked a bit different.
My hair also decided to be a little kind to me today.
Which totally was a sign for bad luck – but I was desperately ignoring it.
If all hope was going to be snatched away, I would prefer to live it in blissful ignorance rather than constant paranoia.
I decided to go for a brighter look, something a bit different. Instead of a messy bun I'd always wore every school day, I tried to tidy it up, maybe throw in a braid or two. For a moment I stared at it, unsure whether I wanted to go through with the new look that scarily outlined my face shape. I bit my lower lip nervously and my hands hovered over the edge of my skirt as if contemplating hitching it up.
I slapped my hands away and huffed. Nope. Not that kind of style. I wouldn't be able to pull it off anyway – it wasn't in my character.
Ignoring the dawning of my gloomy self, I stepped away from the mirror and went on with the normal routine.
I didn't know where all this enthusiasm and positivity had hailed from, but I thought I might as well take advantage of it while it lingered.
There was a faint smile on my lips as I trailed out the house, shutting the door carefully behind me and making my way down to the bus. The air out today was calming and fresh, and it was a bit cold but it suited the atmosphere.
When the bus arrived, I paused for a moment at the entrance, glancing at myself in the window. Did I look different? Well, of course. Sorta. I pursed my lips and clambered on, trying not to think much.
Today just seemed like a good day.
*
Something was up with everyone at school. I mean, normally, something is up. Half the time I even sorta think everyone's just a tad bit high or something – but today, there was something wafting in the air other than cocaine.
Or was that the feeling of the blood-hound girls watching my every move?
I glanced over my shoulder at the oddly high amount of glances I was getting from people who normally wouldn't give me a second look.
Yeah, probably.
My skin felt like it crawling with ants, and I could already feel all the anxiety creeping in. I didn't know why people were staring – I knew it definitely wasn't because of my looks. Like, come on. A simple neat hair bun would never do a girl like me any justice.
If I was looking for justice, I'd need Batman. Not a two minute quick hairstyle fix.
But it was definitely unnerving having so many people watching me, and not knowing why. I could already feel the light of my happy day fading into the darkness. I was freaking out – panicking. I was not the girl to be in the spotlight, if anything, I was the creepy one in the background who'd watch the others with hollo eyes. Like something out of the Ring or the Conjuring.
As I continued to make my way closer and closer to my locker, the worried mushroom that'd lodged itself in the pit of my stomach seemed to enlarge. I couldn't help notice how some people hesitated around me, or stray giggles and whispers. My arms felt hot.
Was my skirt up? Did I have something on my face? I didn't know what to think.
Sugar cookies, I thought. The attention was really getting to me.
I fumbled through the books in my locker, swinging off my bag and shoving them in as quickly as I could. I slung the bag over my back and shut it before I could even draw in a breath, and within a second I was down the hallway heading to my first class. History.
By the time I got there, everyone was already pouring in or seated. The teacher was wiping the board clean as I took my seat at the front row of the class – which I was seriously dreading at the moment, because despite not being able to see the people that were watching me, I knew they were. And knowing was a lot worse than not knowing.
"Alright everyone, take out your books," Mr Jeffrey ordered. Everyone finally settled into their seats.
I sat at the edge of the table, and did seem to notice the sudden odd attention I was getting from the person sitting next to me. I did my best to ignore it and lowered my head to focus on my book, as if the Cold War was the most interesting thing of the century.
Five minutes into the lesson and I was already fidgeting.
It was normal for a girl like me to freak out about social anxiety a little and so on, but not as normal for me to be this bugged about it. I could see all the stray glances that would land on me from the corner of my eye, even a handful of glares.
Glares? Seriously? What made me deserve glares?
Suddenly, I felt a soft but demanding tap on my shoulder. It took every ounce of my confidence to turn round and face the culprit.
It was the girl who usually sat at the back of the classroom. I'd never quite deemed her important in my database collection, so never adjusted to learning her name. She had a slim face with barely visible dotted freckles, intimidating brown eyes and windswept ginger hair – which must've taken her hours to perfect. In her sharp stick-on pink nails was a small piece of lined paper carefully folded.
I eyed her suspiciously. She feigned a fake welcoming smile and gestured to the note, mouthing something that had to be along the lines of, 'for you'. Then she grinned.
On impulse, my hands trailed up to the note, and before I could stop myself to think – even why – it was already within the clasps of my hands. It felt like fire in my palms. Something was up.
"Miss Castro, please face the front," Mr Jeffrey called. I snapped around immediately, staring down at my book. A shallow ripple of giggles swept through the classroom and my face felt hot.
When Mr Jeffrey went back to his long lecture, I did my best to slowly open the note, scared to look in as if something would pop out on me.
And in this case, it probably would.
How did you bribe him?
I stared at it. I blinked.
What?
I stared at it some more.
I gasped.
The realization of it fully hit me, like that feeling you get when you open a hot oven after a long period of time. Yeah, exactly like that. And all the heat was sweeping straight to my face. Finally I understood what all the weirdness was about at school today.
It was Ethan. It had to be Ethan.
Someone saw us out together on Saturday.
I scrunched up the note in my hand and could feel it literally vibrating. There was no way in hell I was going to start hyperventilating over this. My eyes swept around the classroom, glances dropped as I met them.
Oh frickin' sugar cookies. No way.
People really thought I was one of Ethan's lap dogs now? I knew it was a bad idea. My whole body was trembling.
I was going to have a panic attack.
I needed to get out of here.
My hand shot up into the air like lightening, and it took me every muscle in my body not to wave it around in Mr Jeffrey's face like a maniac. He slowly turned to face me, that usual bored look plastered on his aged and aggravated face.
"Yes?" He said tiredly.
"Can I be excused? I n-need to go to the toilets," I rambled. Another sweep of giggles. My body felt like jelly. He let me off with a dismissive wave of his hand and I shot up fast like lightening, bag in my hand, and immediately I was out through the door and running down the hallway to the closest girls' bathroom.
No way was this actually happening.
Fine, Ethan had been particularly nice to me on Saturday. He'd told me not to pay him back, he bought me ice-cream, my favourite flavour, and he even offered to drop me off at home – which I had aggressively denied of course. Yes, he was a little nice to me on Saturday. But I knew how all of that worked, bad boy playing the good guy act.
It wasn't even the fact people knew – it was the extra attention.
I almost tripped on myself when I remembered. Brianna. Did Brianna know? I felt like I was going to collapse. I stormed into the girls' bathroom, angry, confused, frightened and anxious all at the same time. As soon as I was in slammed into a cubicle and locked it behind me, glad no one else was there.
First, before we get the whole 'run into the bathroom and cry like a weeny' idea, which definitely doesn't fit my character. And neither would I sit on top of the toilet-thingy. Gross. Germs. But either way, I definitely was freaking out.
I had a lot of morals. A lot of morals. And being a playboy's bloodhound wasn't one of them, or on my schedule.
There was so much messed up about this. For starters, my plans were starting to crumble. The rules were clear, I couldn't be seen out with him. It was my job as a matchmaker, but I'd screwed it up after letting my guard down. By the looks of it, it seemed like at least half the school already knew, and if it kept spreading like wild fire it would take no less than five minutes for Brianna Kent to figure it all out.
It also aggravated me. Why so much uproar over one guy?
But yeah, I remembered. Ethan Stone. The Ethan Stone. Playboy, All Star Sports Man, male model, yada yada yada. We've been over this. And that much worried me even more.
"Ugh," I groaned repeatedly to myself under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Compromised. I was totally compromised. I slipped up. I wasn't supposed to be in this situation when I'm up to my matchmaking, it completely defies the whole idea of it. I'm supposed to be in the side lines, not the spotlight.
Sugar, sugar, sugar.
I was prepared to use some very inappropriate curses.
I heard the door to the girls' bathroom swing open, and whole body froze simultaneously. A rush of voices erupted, the high pitched and girly type. I counted in my head at least five girls, and my skin started to crawl.
"I'm thinking pink and white fairy lights," a familiar voice said. I squinted as I tried to recall whose voice that was, as if the hidden veil would somehow disappear.
"Pink? I thought you were going for a more gold theme?" another said. My brows furrowed. The combination of the two voices sounded extra familiar. Another girl commented, one that I wasn't familiar with.
I waited in the cubicle quietly, hoping that they'd leave soon. I glanced at my watch and grew impatient, noting the fact that if I stayed any longer I would be either deemed as ditching – or excessive diarrhoea. Both sounded equally bad.
As much as I didn't want to go back to class, I really didn't want to drop a grade for skipping. Or for people to think I was constipated.
Seconds passed. Minutes. And now I felt even more conscious for waiting so long.
"What do you think Brianna?" a girl chirped. It hit me – like really hit me. Like, someone slapped me across the face with a glove of needles.
Sara. Rhianna.
And Brianna.
And a couple of other girls I probably didn't know.
I needed to get out of here.
Maybe a little too abruptly, I slammed the cubicle door open, sending everyone including me jumping in surprise. All eyes turned on me and they all stopped in their tracks, lipsticks hovering in the air and frowns slowly starting to appear on their faces. They didn't even try to hide the fact they were watching.
I glanced around and lowered my head, pressing my lips together and trying to make a B line for the exit. My heart felt like it was going to drop.
Brianna was leaning against the door in all her Gucci glory, popping and snapping a bright pink gum into a bubble. Her eyes were sharp and watched me like a predator, and as soon as our eyes met, there was a look in her eyes almost so violent that I nearly cringed away.
Oh yeah, she totally knew.
It felt like eternity and a minute all at once as she levelled me up in pure silence.
I made no motion to ask her to step aside, and neither did she. The silence and tension were so thick in the bathroom you would need a chain saw to slice it. I could feel all the other eyes on me, but from the corner of my eye I could see that most of them were glancing at each other nervously.
If she stood there any longer, I'd have expected her to pounce on me and go all out on a full on cat fight. My money was on her beating me to a pulp till my face represented a plum, proven through the sad absence of muscles on my body.
I gulped, my heart thrumming violently in my chest. I stared at everything but her. I looked down at her my shoes like they were the most fascinating things in the world. Suddenly there was a wave of guilt inside me and I wanted to die right there.
Slowly – ever so slowly – she leaned away from the door, her eyes never leaving my face. Her scowl almost set me on fire. Exasperatedly, I thrust the door open and ran out into the hallway. I didn't stop running till I was all the way across the school building.
I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, my eyes watering and blurring my vision. I sniffed and rubbed aggressively at them.
Why was I crying? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I chewed on my quivering lip. I was such an idiot to agree to the Saturday meet up. I'd messed up so bad. And I was such an idiot for actually thinking Ethan was being nice to me. And I was such an idiot for going out with another girl's boyfriend. Well, they broke up, but technically separated. So in truth I was being such a huge word-I'm-not-supposed-to-say.
You're supposed to be cupid, not a slut, I mentally scolded myself. I brushed the braids I'd done in my hair and felt immensely angry with myself. What was I playing at? Hastily, I undid the braids and the bun and slung my hair up into a messy ponytail instead. So useless.
I squeezed my eyes shut, tighter than ever, hoping the darkness in my eyelids would swallow me and take me far away. It took me a while to notice that other students had started walking past, heading to their next lesson. Some glanced at me, but most didn't pay me much attention, which I was grateful for.
I begged the Guy in The Sky not to have Ethan walk past.
The bell had gone. How long had I been in the cubicle stressing about this?
I took a ragged breath and collected myself, hand tightening round the strap of my bag. Another remorseful sigh escaped my lips before I could catch it. I started to fast-walk towards my next lesson, not stopping for anyone.
My good day was bound to go to crap.
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I paused, fumbling for it. No one texted me during school, so I assumed it was an emergency. My heart fluttered at the name that appeared on the screen. Ethan. My throat felt dry.
'Stay away from me for a while'.
My heart plummeted and I shivered vigorously. I didn't know why my body was reacting this way, but for some reason my chest really hurt. I took the deepest breathe I'd ever taken in my life and urged myself to keep walking forward. My eyes stung.
*
"I'm home," I called absently, stepping into the warm air of the house and shutting the cold out. I stood by the entrance, listening for voices, but heard nothing. Part of me relaxed as I started to head down the narrow hallway.
My mind felt clouded and dim from the long school day. I hadn't even been able to hang out Violet since she had to finish her art project. She'd spent the whole day in the art department, so I'd been left alone and had no one to relate my situation to.
I'd sat in the library all day, not even going to lunch for People-Watching. I didn't want to see anyone today. Especially not thou-who-shan't-be-named.
I could hardly get wrapped up in my books either. I couldn't read a page without having the urge to start crying. Though most of the attention slowly started to die out, the whole school day had felt like hell. Even worse, Brianna was noticing me too.
A chill swept up my spine at the thought.
She kept staring at me in English, and even in the hallways. Half of the time it was either her scowling or trying to size me up. See what was so good about me that her ex-boyfriend had flocked straight to me after their break up.
It wasn't like that, I thought defensively. That's not what happened.
I'd defied my own rules and stupidly agreed to going out with Ethan. I knew it was a huge risk, but I'd been so giddy and curious I forgot to think twice about meeting him. I was such an idiot. If I couldn't keep my own rules, how did I expect everyone else to follow them? Useless, useless, useless. I was tempted to start slamming my head against the wall.
Now I was just crawling with anxiety and regret, not wanting to cry anymore.
I headed for the living room and immediately reared back.
My back slammed against the wall. I froze, my whole body going cold. My heart did a great leap and my head swam.
All the air caught in my lungs.
Jared. He was sat on the couch, slopped over and clutching his forehead like he was in pain. At my sudden movement his eyes wandered over to me and I felt my heart racing – faster than anything I'd ever felt.
Silence.
He stared at me with his icy eyes, watching. He didn't move and neither did eye. I was frightened.
My eyes quickly glanced around in search of my mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. There was no noise and no other presence and suddenly my fear sky rocketed. It was just us. I wanted to scream.
I wanted to run and hide myself in my room, but before I could move, Jared was already there, leaning over me and blocking my exit. Tears rushed to my eyes again and my legs felt like jelly. Suddenly all the bottled up emotions were on high alert.
I trembled.
Dark hollow orbs stared down at me, no emotion in them. They were bloodshot beyond belief and he reeked of alcohol. He seemed even messier than usual. Jared said nothing as he looked at me with hateful eyes.
"Where's your Mum?" he said, his voice cold and hard. Some letters were slurred. He was either hungover or still drunk. A cold chill swept up my body. I gulped, my throat dry. I felt nauseous.
"I-I don't know–"
"Liar!" he yelled, his voice so loud my ears rang. His fist slammed against the wall just above my head and I heard a little crackling noise. I cringed away, whimpering, tears threatening to slip.
Someone help.
There was silence again as he stared at me, his eyes blazing.
He always hated me. Every time he talked to me, he would have the most annoyed and agitated expression on. I knew since the moment we'd met we'd never get along. Considering the way he'd even treated my Mum.
A slow unsettling grin crept onto his lips. I stared at it, dread lodged in my chest. All my limbs shook. Why was this happening?
"You know, you're mother's a dirty slut," he sneered. He chuckled. "I was being so sweet to her. And she cut me, right here. Screaming and whatnot." He pointed down to a thin scar across his neck, tracing it with the tip of his finger. I shook looking at it. "And she ran off. She ran off. She wants to leave me again I reckon. Do you think that's right? Huh? Do you think that's right you whore's daughter? You're just like her you know. You look just like her. You're both dirty little sluts, aren't you?"
"My Mum's not a slut," I whispered through gritted teeth. His face ignited with rage and I immediately regretted it.
Before I even knew it was coming, he slammed his fist just across my jaw. I squeaked in shock, my face burning at the spot. A single tear streaked across my cheek. The spot burned and pain shot through the side of my head.
He slammed my back against the wall. I screamed, my spine throbbing.
"Don't talk back to me!" he shrieked.
I quietly cried, trying to push back the tears but they kept coming and they wouldn't stop. I was so scared. Help. Someone help.
I tried to make a move for the stairs.
He pinned me against the wall, hand against my throat and slowly squeezing. I gasped. His other hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed so tight I felt my fingers losing blood circulation.
"You're exactly like her – it makes me so sick," he ground out, his body trembling with fury. His hand tightened and I cringed. My whole body hurt. "You're a dirty slut. Say it." My lip trembled and my throat felt clogged. Tears streamed down my face. He grew impatient.
He slammed me against the wall again. I winced.
"Say it!"
"I'm a dirty slut!" I yelled, sobbing.
As soon as he let go of me I bolted up the stairs, abandoning my bag and slamming my bedroom door shut. I hurried to my bookshelf and pushed it against the door with all the remaining strength I had. I urgently sprinted to bar it with my bed frame and ran to the corner of the room, wrapping myself in a discarded blanket and crying into my forearm.
I couldn't stop shaking.
Why, why, why, why.
I hated this.
Ever since my Dad disappeared without trace, Mum and I had been left broken. He hadn't said a word – there was no warning. We were a perfect little family and no one had seen it coming. One morning, we'd woken up, and he was gone. He never came back, he'd destroyed my whole world.
And like a curse, Jared had appeared in his place. He tore our family apart. As if trying to project the emotions Dad had felt for us but was too weak to express, he treated us like garbage. Mum had constant arguments with my Aunt, our Aunt begging her desperately to leave him. But she never did, and our Aunt lost contact with us. I'd agreed with her.
I'd pleaded her.
She'd promised me she would leave him. Promised we'd escape. But he'd never leave.
My Dad was gone, and now Jared was here to stay to torment us.
I rubbed at my tear stricken eyes, my whole body shaking.
I hated men.
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