Every year on the morning of my first day of school, my mother would make a big breakfast. I’d awake to the smell of cinnamon and syrup permeating through the house. It was a nice smell, one that I had associated with being safe and happy. This year was different. My mother wasn’t alive this year, and I awoke to the shriek of my alarm clock instead of her cooking. I slammed the off button forcibly, knocking it off my nightstand in the process. I sat up in my bed, and pulled the covers off my legs. With quiet steps, I walked to the bedroom adjacent to mine and crept in. My brother, Caleb was still a sleep; His hair a mess and mouth slightly open. I sat on the edge of his bed and ran my hand through his messy hair. His eyes blinked open, and he smiled sleepily.
“Morning Beatrice” He said, a layer of sleep coating his voice
“Morning Caleb” I said, a small smile on my face. “We have school in an hour you have to get up now”
He sighed sleepily before emerging from the covers that were pulled up to his neck. I left his room, allowing him to get dressed and walked back to my own. I braided my long hair and let it hang over my shoulder. It didn’t take me long to get ready, so I headed downstairs to make pancakes for Caleb and myself. I tried my best to make them like my mother used to, with cinnamon and syrup. Even with all my effort they would never be the same.
I looked over my shoulder when I heard the sound of footsteps, expecting to see Caleb coming down the stairs. It was my father; he looked at the pan curiously.
“Pancakes” he said.
“Like mom used to make” I said, quietly.
I didn’t even have to look at him to see the pain in his eyes. He missed her, maybe even more than me and Caleb did.
“I’ll save you some if you would like” I said.
“That’s alright Beatrice, I have to be at work, thank you” he said.
He was lying, I knew that. He was going to sit in his car and cry. He did this quite often, whenever he was reminded of my mother. He kissed my cheek and then swiftly left. I piled the pancakes onto a plate and put them on the kitchen table. Caleb walked into the kitchen and smiled at me.
“Just like mom” He said
“Yea” I smiled.
We ate silently, and Caleb helped me clean up. We decided to walk since it was nice out, and we had the time.
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My first day was uneventful, as it usually was in this small town. I had seen all my friends over the summer, so there were no awaited reunions. It was lunch and I sat at the same table I sat at last year, with the same people. I ate my yogurt and thought about what it would be like to live somewhere exciting. I was pulled from my daze when my friend Christina nudged my shoulder .I turned to her and she pointed to a table a few yards away.
“You see that boy over there” She whispered.
I nodded, studying the boy she was talking about. He had short hair, and muscular arms. There was something about him that was familiar. I felt as if I knew who he was.
“Beatrice” Christina said “are you listening?”
“I’m Sorry what were you saying?”
She sighed.
“I was saying that’s Tobias” she said quietly. “He ran away last year”
“Oh” I said.
I couldn’t figure out why he looked so familiar.
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The gravel crunched under my sneaker as I walked home. When I reached my house, I noticed my father’s car in the drive way. He was home earlier than usual. When I walked in I spotted him at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee.
“You’re home early “I said.
“Marcus let us leave early today” He said.
It was my turn to make dinner, so I began taking pots out and cooking. When I was finished I called for Caleb and my father. We made our plates and sat down to eat. My father and Caleb talked while they ate. My father treated Caleb like an adult, but tended to treat me as if I was still a child. It bothered me, because Caleb is less than a year older than me. I listened to their conversation most of it boring.
“Do you remember Marcus’ son?” My dad asked.
Caleb nodded.
“Yea Tobias, right?” Caleb asked.
I looked up, that must be why he looked so familiar. Marcus lives across the street, and is my father’s boss. I knew Marcus had a son but I didn’t know his name.
“Yea Tobias, after he ran away last year Jeanine wrote a cruel article accusing Marcus of being abusive.” My father said, anger lacing his voice. “This kid had the nerve to come back after all the stress he caused his father”
My dad didn’t get angry often, only when he talked about Jeanine. Jeanine was a journalist in our town. She wasn’t well liked in the town, because of the articles she wrote. She went out of her way to find dirt on people. Marcus owns the only bank in this small town, and Jeanine jumped at the opportunity to give him a bad reputation.
“He goes to our school” I said.
“Well I want you to stay away from him. He’s bad news” My father said
I nodded and continued to eat my dinner.
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A week passed and I did as my father said. It wasn’t very hard considering Tobias was two years older, and I only ever saw him during lunch. I continued on with my day as I usually did. I walked into my English class sitting in my assigned seat. I hated when teachers assigned seats, because sometimes you get stuck sitting next to people like Peter. Peter is an arrogant idiot who I unfortunately have to sit next to in English.
I sat down and didn’t even look at him. If I did I would be tempted to slap him.
“Hey, beautiful” He said, sarcastically.
I didn’t answer.
“Hey don’t ignore me” He said, putting his hand on my thigh.
“Don’t touch me” I said, slapping his hand away.
“Prude” He muttered under his breathe.
I ignored his comment, and instead focused on the assignment written on the board.
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School ended, and I decided to walk as usual. My mind wandered as I walked down familiar roads. I yelled when I felt myself being pulled into an alley between two shops. A hand covered my mouth, and I bit down.
“Ow! Shit”
I recognized the voice as Peters, and my eyes widened. I struggled against his grip, trying to break free. I bit his hand again, earning a slap to the face.
“Stop fidgeting” He yelled, frustrated.
He pushed me against a hard wall, causing a pain to spread through my back. I felt his lips on my mine and used all my strength to try and push him off. He pushed me back into the wall harder, and my eyes watered. I bit his lip, drawing blood. He pulled away, bringing his hand to his lip. He punched me, causing me to fall to my knees. I felt a kick to my stomach, and I began to wheeze. He pushed me, and I hit my back on the ground. He climbed on top of me, and I felt his fingers at the button on my jeans. I began to cry, because I had no more energy and he was about to rape me. I used everything I had in me to fidget out of his grasp. He hit me in the head, and black spots blurred my vision. I cried harder, as consciousness slowly faded away.
I heard yelling and Peter wasn’t on top of me anymore. I could feel myself being carried, but I didn’t know who had picked me up. I buried my head into their collarbone, too weak to care about the world around me. The last thing I remember before blacking out was the smell of cologne.