"Now, class, today we will be learning the difference between verbs and proverbs, seeing as though almost every single one of you failed these questions on the mid-terms..." My boring language arts teacher drone on in her nasally monotone voice.
My mind wandered off and I stared out the window, watching the drops of rain begin to fall from the dark grey sky. It began to downpour and there were cracks of lightning followed by booming thunder. I shuddered as I watched the gusting wind blow trees and bushes and lights and poles over at an angle, threatening to break free. The sky grew immensely darker, and suddenly the power went out-- the safety lights didn't come on though.
There were several girls in my class that shrieked loudly, scared of the "darkness".
"It's so scary!" One of them cried and the teacher shushed them. Soon the vice principal walked by and ordered our class to go to the gym and take a seat on the bleachers. Following instructions, we dropped everything off at our lockers and met inside the gym, right in the middle of the bleachers. Another class walked in, and I could just make out Tristan's brown hair in the crowd. He looked up, locking eyes, and led his class to the section next to ours. He sat right beside me and I looked straight ahead to the bleachers on the other side. There were other classes filing in now, teachers holding flashlights to guide everyone.
Soon, there were well over 400 people in the gym before our principal came in, "Good afternoon, students. Unfortunately, the doors are jammed shut and the power is out, leaving no way out," She announced through the megaphone she carried, "You will all remain where you are as well as the other students who are in the cafeteria and auditorium. Please remain calm, and thank you for your patience," With that, she left the gym in a quiet confusion.
If there was no way out... Then there was no way in.
"This sucks," Tristan said from beside me. I shrugged and he looked down, "You're still giving me the silent treatment, huh?"
When he received silence again, he leaned back against the wall--perks of being in the back row-- and frowned, "I know. It was all my fault and I shouldn't have done that to you. Shouldn't have snapped at you when all you wanted to know was why I was bloodied and bruised,"
I just shrug again, and he says quietly among the loud chatter, "My dad beats me, Annalise. Does that answer your question?" The strain and pain in his voice reminded me of how Lily would've said it, how I would've said it.
Nodding shortly, I look at him with tears pricking in my eyes, "I know, Lily told me," I whispered, just barely audible. But he heard me, I could tell from the look of shock on his face, "Lily was wise beyond her years. She even could tell you the things I've been through with only a glance at me. She was a miracle, you know..."
"Yeah, she was..." He trailed off.
I choke a sob back as I think about it -- seeing my father hit my mother, watching him storm out of the house drunk, seeing my mother lying in a heap of pain, crying. Getting the call that my father was dead. All those times I cut myself, all those times I starved myself, all those times I hated myself. That was the reason -- I couldn't bear the pain of knowing I could've stopped my father from leaving that night.
"Why do you even bother with me?" I ask him, a tear trickling down my face.
"Because I'm determined to figure out why you're hurt so bad," He whispers and kisses my forehead. What he doesn't know is that I'm not hurt -- I'm broken beyond repair.
"I'm not hurt," I whisper back, "I'm broken,"