OPENING NOTES:
Hi, guys! Welcome to my story. (:
Before we begin, I just want to point a few things out.
ONE: Yes, I'm aware that I've posted this story before, but I created another account so I can start over. Yes, this is my original work, no it's not a copy of anyone else's. I created another account so I can continue revamping this story without confusing the living hell out of everyone.
TWO: This story is rated 'M' for situations and themes people younger than 'M' should not be reading. I'll probably be saying this multiple times throughout this story, at the top of particularly rough chapters. Just as a heads up. It does contain mild descriptions of abuse, so if that's not your cup of tea, I suggest heeding the warnings marked as 'ImPORTANT NOTE' at the start.
THREE: This story is pure fiction. Completely made up, but it's the crap I live with in my head. It's not based on true events, although..
FOUR: MY CHARACTERS ARE MY OWN. My characters, as in anyone you don't recognize from Stephenie Meyer's work, are all completely fictional. Even though I have based a few of them off of real people I've known, names aren't the same. I do not own Twilight, nor anything affiliated with it. I'm not claiming to, and I'm definitely not getting paid for any of this.
WITH ALL THAT SAID, let's get on with it. Buckle up. It's gonna get interesting. Let's see where it leads us, huh? Right off the bat, though, I've gotta start with an:
ImPORTANT NOTE: Descriptions of abuse/violence exist in this chapter. It doesn't get too bad, and I hope I've tamed it enough, but it's not pretty. Beware, and proceed with caution.
Chapter One
My feet carried me as fast as I could make them. Desperately searching for the safest place I could find in Hell. My heart pounded in terror, nearly aching as it thundered against my chest.
Diving into my bedroom, I slammed the door behind me, tears flooding down my cheeks as I looked around myself in the darkness. Pausing for just a second, hanging my head in silent, desperate prayer that somehow, I could escape the beating that was coming my way.
It never worked.
Our house wasn't very big, and I'd been in this same situation too many times now to count, so it was only too easy to know exactly how long it would take him to follow me.
I scrambled away from the door a second before it burst open, and Jack, my stepdad, stood there. Quietly chuckling as I sobbed, clawing my way under the bed. His over-six-foot frame blocking most of the light in the hallway.
I almost couldn't see the grin on his face, or his blue eyes narrowed. The light behind him silhouetting him in such a way, casting his sadistic happiness in shadow. Right into the darkness of my room.
There was nowhere to run in this house. Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide where he wouldn't find me. Six of my nine years alive had consisted of this, and I knew I still had many more years ahead of me doing this. Running, trying so hard to find anywhere I could hide. Without success, most of the time. I knew he knew right where I was, partly because he saw me get under the bed, but also because I'd tried to hide here before.
"Leandra." His voice struck terror into my heart, and I laid there, hiding for my life under the bed. It wasn't shouted. It was only murmured sadly, as if scolding me. Disappointment in his dark tone, but I knew that wasn't the case.
Closing my eyes again. This time in defeat. Maybe tonight, my mom would finally sober up enough to hear me. Maybe she'd finally listen close enough to hear her only daughter's cries, instead of laying there wishing I would just shut up.
I took a deep, slow breath, keeping my eyes closed as I listened to him step closer to the bed, the ominously quiet jingling of the loose belt in his hand causing me to erupt in violent trembles.
"Please." I whispered breathlessly to myself. I didn't even know why I bothered to hide. He knew exactly where I was. Hiding had never worked before, but that never stopped me from trying.
I just sobbed harder as I watched him lower to his knees and peer under the bed at me.
"Now," He sniffed, "You know this doesn't fucking work. You know I hate it when you run from me, and all it does is piss me off."
"I'm sorry." I cried, "P-Please don't-" I cut off with a sobbing whimper as he suddenly reached out, grabbing a tight hold of my hair and dragging me out from under the bed.
He never even tried to pretend it was only a spanking. I'd been familiar with that cold, sharp strip of leather most of my life, but it never got any easier. There was no one to help me. My mom was always home, laying passed out in just the other room, but there was no one to help me.
Despite the constant pain I was in already, I scrambled for the door, but Jack's aim was much better than I cared to admit. One solid swing of the belt, and my fight was over.
The entire rest of the night was a blur, but I'd been there so many times before, it wasn't that disorienting anymore. I don't know if I fell unconscious before he finally left me there on the floor, or if I just stopped feeling. I found somewhere in the back of my mind to hide when I couldn't physically do so. Leaving the rest of me to deal with it on my own.
Cringing, sobbing so unbelievably hard on the floor, waiting for him to tire out as the belt slammed into every inch of me that could be covered, while trying to ignore the insults and blame he placed on me with his words. Knowing exactly what they were doing to me.
All I knew, was that I was suddenly aware that hours had passed, and I was still breathing. Jack was leaving the house, and I realized that it was now early morning. My mind was stuck in a fog, my whole body stiff with seemingly one solid bruise.
I still laid there on the floor, now staring up at the ceiling as the room slowly brightened with the first light of morning. I focused only on the overhead light fixture that had no bulb in it, trying to make sense of the patterns of the ceiling. Knowing that as soon as I moved one muscle, I'd begin feeling again. I put it off as long as I could. I also knew that as soon as I began to feel again, I'd be hating life much worse than I had been all night.
As it stood right now, I felt the throbbing bruises forming by the second, but it was a hum. When I moved, I'd anger every single inch of new bruising I had, overlaying the old. It would be unbearable, but I'd bear it. It would be excruciating, but I'd deal with it. Somehow. I always did.
It was a weird feeling, passing time without knowing it, but it was far better than being aware of every passing second. Every beat of my heart flooded my entire body with aching pain, but moving would ignite that aching pain into blinding, nauseating pain. If I could lay here for the rest of my life, I would.
But I couldn't.
While I laid there, I went through all the usual emotions. All the usual emotions I experienced after a beating of this magnitude. I had to admit that this one had been worse than usual.
Fear, terror. Sadness, desperation. Such a deep tearing, clawing sensation at my heart. The kind that hurt, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. The kind that tore at me, left me bleeding worse than the wounds I received. Hating, deeply loathing each breath that I drew in. The pain that breath caused me, both physically and emotionally, left its mark on me.
It taught me things I would never forget. In that one breath, just like so many times before, I learned all over again that this was the best I could look forward to.
Those emotions, however, eventually eased to a sort of numb depression. After awhile of sobbing all of my breath out, it eventually eased. Hopelessness took the place of that desperation. Allowing me to continue on. As badly as I wanted to stop feeling, I was still alive.
The only positive point I found in the entire morning, was that other than beating me within an inch of my life, he'd left me alone. My pants had stayed on me. My last pair of pajama pants were fine. It could have been a whole lot worse than what it was.
I braced myself. I had to move.
I started my ritual. Breathing deep, holding it in preparation for the debilitating pain that would soon be ripping through me all over again. I drew a deep breath in slowly, holding it and letting it out. Several times.
Eventually, after enough stalling, I held a deep breath, and peeled myself quickly off the floor, just enough to sit upright.
It was bad. Worse than I thought.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew mid-motion that I couldn't stop at just sitting up. If I stopped there, I wouldn't get moving in time. So I kept going. I clawed my way to my feet, using the door frame in front of me for support.
Just as I'd predicted, as soon as I moved, my entire body exploded in such a pain, it knocked the breath right out of me in a drawn-out, sobbing cry nobody would hear.
I'd been here enough times to know this routine by now.
I had to stand there for a moment, holding onto the frame of the door to stay standing, attempting to regain my breath. Shaking, trembling violently, barely holding on. Tears poured continuously again, my cries flowing back at me from the empty hall outside my room.
How I would keep these bruises a secret today, I had no idea. Especially considering that I could barely keep standing.
Jack was never worried about that, though. He knew I often had to get creative in hiding my bruises. He knew that I'd keep them a secret, as stupid as it seemed. However, I'd seen his bad side and I'd heard loud and clear the threats he'd both screamed and growled at me. Every rumbling word under his breath, usually right into my ear, was burned into my brain like acid.
I wasn't stupid. I would hide them. Just like I always did. After enough time, I'd find that numb again. If only partially.
I knew telling anyone would be the stupidest move I could ever make. Worse than anything else I could ever possibly do. That was an option written off a long time ago.
Today was Monday. Monday meant school, and though normally I looked forward to school purely for the lunch, today was different. Today, my class had a field trip to the high school planned. Something I'd just have to endure. I'd gladly take a stupid field trip over laying on my bedroom floor, hating my life. Jack had already left for work, just like always, leaving me to get my ass to school.
After another minute of standing there, the pain evened out. It was everything screaming at once that stole my breath, but when it evened out and I was able to tell where I was worse off, I could move.
Today, it was my back that was worse than the rest of me. My left arm wasn't doing so well either, but my back had taken just a little bit more. It was a familiar pain. It was familiar, but it never stopped hurting.
I stiffly limped from my bedroom eventually, attempting to ignore my mom's quiet snores off on the couch as I made my way into the bathroom for a quick shower.
A constant wince on my face, I slowly peeled my shirt off over my head. Ignoring the damp places in the fabric. I turned to the sink, turning the cold water on and balling my shirt in the stream. The water saturating the fabric ran red, but I just let it run.
New and old bruises covered every inch of me that could be covered, even a few places I had to be creative at hiding. Meeting my lifeless, clear green eyes in the mirror, I slowly eased my hand up, and moved my dark auburn hair from in front of my face. Shoulder to toe screaming in pain, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I could see the last several hours in my eyes, and as badly as I wanted to keep crying, I knew if I let myself break down, I'd never get back up in time for school.
This was a daily ritual for me. Proving to myself by taking a deep breath as I held my reflection's gaze that I was still alive. I didn't dare look away from my eyes. I didn't want to see how much worse everything had just gotten.
I dared not hope that anyone would care enough to look passed my blatant lies, but some part of me refused to give up. That was the part of me that hurt me the most. That part of me that refused to give up, and still hoped on some buried level, was the part that caused me the most pain. Just as much as any of the deepest bruises I'd ever gotten. Over and over, that part of me was broken. Day in, and day out, I wished that part of me would just go away.
I blinked out of those thoughts, looking back down at the sink, and my bloodied shirt sitting in the rising water. I had to focus.
As much as I hated it, I had to see. I had to look, if only to plan my day better.
I slowly turned around, my back to the mirror now and I looked over my shoulder at my reflection. The horrifying sight I saw was one I was used to. Thick, black bruising and a few spots my skin had finally given up and split just enough to ease the pressure.
As far as I could see of the rest of me, my back had been the only place to bleed, but my stomach and chest weren't so good either. My arms were thin, but the bruising made them seem a lot smaller. This sight used to scare me, but it had been my normal for years by now.
I didn't even know what it was Jack was so mad about. He never told me. Someone at work must have pissed him off, or he was just in the mood to hate me. Jack's hate was constant. A painful reminder that I'd never have what other kids had.
I'd been hearing everything he said to me for so long now, I couldn't help believing him. This was all I was good for. These bruises would be all I ever was. I'd lost so much hope every day, and I'd done my crying, but this was all I knew. It would never get any better. Not for me.
I showered quickly, hating the way the ice cold water caused even more pain than before. It was more of a rinse than anything, letting the previous day run into the drain with the water. It too ran pink, removing the blood smeared along my back, and I knew I'd have to wait a minute before putting on a new shirt, or I'd just bleed into that one too.
Clenching my teeth, I cried into the empty bathroom. A sharp cry of agony that tore free before I could bother to stop it. Why bother? It didn't matter.
And as I stood there afterwards, placing old, water-resistant concealer over an older and faded accidental bruise on my cheek, a pleadingly desperate thought that had always sat in the back of my mind came forward once more as I carefully patted the make-up into place. It was part of the routine.
Please. Let someone see me today.
Anybody. A teacher, a classmate. A passer-by on the street. Anybody. I didn't care who, just somebody who would look passed my carefully constructed attitude. Somebody who wouldn't fall for my lies. Somebody who would just take a second glance. To see passed the attempts I always made to push them away, and see that I wasn't okay. I wasn't alright. To see that I needed somebody to just look at me. To see me, the real me.
I hated giving that hope much thought, because once that thought was through, another thought would squash it flat. However minimally, breaking my heart and setting the tone for the rest of the day.
Today would be no different than any other day. I'd go to school, and I'd suffer. I'd survive that suffering, and return home to Jack's anger, and suffer then too. I'd survive that Hell, and I'd return to school, where I'd suffer some more. That was my life. It'd never change, so I never understood why I bothered to hold even a shred of a hope.
I was the kid that nobody saw. I shouldn't keep doing that to myself.
I left the bathroom, and I dressed in my long-sleeved dark brown sweater, and baggy, holey jeans. I hated wearing things twice in a row. I'd washed them, of course, but it didn't matter to a lot of my classmates.
I didn't have much to my name. A few torn articles of clothing, and that was about it. My tennis shoes, which should have been a size too small, but still fit easily, were nearly giving in and I hoped they had another year left in them.
I hardly ever got new clothes. And when I did, they were never new. They were always whatever Jack could find in the dumpster behind the thrift store and bring home in a garbage bag.
As it was, I was wearing the best piece of clothing I owned. My sweater. The sleeves overtook my hands, but was thin enough to not do much in the way of keeping me warm. It was the most comfortable, though. Loose on me, so it didn't irritate the brand new bruises and welts, but covered them effectively. I pulled my old, dark pink cotton hat over my loose hair, and I was set.
I took a deep breath, allowing myself a handful of sobs, before leaving my bedroom. Closing the door behind me with a deep sniffle, I rounded the corner and stepped quietly over to where my mom laid on the couch. Right where she'd been all night.
Despite her heartbreaking choices, I still loved her. I hated her, but I loved her. I shook my head, grabbed the small blanket off the end of the couch, and laid it over her.
"You drank too much last night." I told her quietly, knowing she never heard me. My voice was quiet, and thick with emotion. She continued to snore, oblivious to my presence. I sighed and turned, looking to the pack of cigarettes she had sitting on the coffee table within her reach. I lifted the pack, and the lighter sitting beside it. Looking to the clock, I had time.
My snarling stomach never ceased to ache. For as long as I could remember, I'd been hungry. Jack purposefully kept the house void of any kind of food. My best hope was that he brought left-over lunch home, and gave me a few scraps, or the school lunch.
The lunches the school provided never satisfied my hunger, and definitely wasn't enough to live on, but it was pretty much all I had. Today, we were supposed to bring money or a packed lunch for the field trip, so that killed any hope of eating today. I'd just have to deal with it. The best I could do to deal with it, was give my mouth something to do.
I gingerly took a seat on the loveseat near my mom, and lit up a cigarette. I smoked quickly, sitting there calmly, nibbling on my thumbnail between drags. I knew that even if my mom were to wake up and see me doing this, she wouldn't have enough energy to care.
Her pale skin told me she'd had too much to drink the night before, and would probably wake up soon only to puke, grab another beer, and fall back to sleep. She was killing herself with her choices and habits, completely forgetting that she had a daughter that needed her, but that was my normal. She'd been this way as long as I could remember.
I smoked for maybe five minutes, before deciding to just take it with me. With my new wounds, I would need to take some extra time to walk to school. I shoved the half-full pack into my small, faded black backpack, and turned. I took a quick trip to the fridge for a beer that I placed on the table in front of her and I placed the empty wastebasket right beside the couch before I headed for the door.
"Have a good day, mom." I murmured as I opened the front door, "Try not to drink too much." No one answered me. It was as if the house were empty. I had no doubts that she'd still be there when I got home from school.
Luckily, my little school was just up the road from my house. So I could make it there within thirty minutes if I walked fast enough.
I managed to finish my cigarette before it really started to rain, sticking to the shelter of the trees on the side of the highway until my cigarette was done. Cars passed me, and just like any other day, no one slowed down or even attempted to prevent themselves from spraying me with the mist off their tires.
It was days like this, I truly hated my life. Days after beatings like the one last night always seemed darker, more nauseating. One thought that always managed to make my heart ache, was that my dad was out there somewhere. My real dad, not the monster I lived with. My dad had left, divorcing my mom when I was really young. I'd not heard from, or seen him at all. All I knew was his name.
I'd seen an old picture or two of him, and found that I'd taken most of his looks. Hardly any of my mom found in my features. I always felt a heavy sense of bitterness when I thought of how he seemed to forget about the fact that he had a daughter out there, and never bothered to check up on her.
I didn't know what went on before my mom met Jack, as he was all I could remember, but I assumed my dad had just taken off. I had no reason to believe otherwise. I hated him for leaving me and my mom, but he just had to be better than Jack.
My shoes were useless in protecting my socks from getting hopelessly soaked as I stepped in puddle after puddle. I considered skipping school today as I arrived within sight of the small building. I knew I couldn't, though. They'd call Jack, and he'd be pissed.
"Leandra! You're all wet!" I ignored Rachel's irritating voice as I walked passed the playground, and headed toward the front doors of the small elementary school.
I hated Rachel with a passion. A girl in my class, she was always relentlessly mean to me. Coming from one of the best families in the area, and having the attitude to match. Pretty, to boot. Long blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes always made me jealous of her. Not to mention, she'd always had the best clothes. Her parents provided for her and her older brother who had started middle school that year.
I wished I was pretty, but I knew that even if I were, I'd probably not even be able to hold a light to Rachel's looks. Even if I didn't have all my scars, or bruises, I would never be as pretty as Rachel.
Which was partly why I hated her.
There weren't many of us here, maybe thirty kids to this school, and it covered Kindergarten through sixth grade. That was it for us in this town.
Sappho was just a little side town to the only slightly larger town of Forks, Washington. Fifteen minutes away, tops.
I was glad, however, that this school existed. Walking to the elementary school in Forks would have sucked. I didn't know what I'd do when I had to start going to the middle school in two years. Maybe by then, I'd be tougher, and have the energy to walk that far twice a day five days a week.
By the time I walked into the front doors of the school, the other kids had noticed me as well. Calling after me in a sneer as they played on the covered, bright colored jungle gym. Squealing like animals when the cold rain would somehow drip on them off the overhang. As always, I kept my gaze down, walked faster with my hands stuffed deep into the pockets of my jeans. I headed inside to dry off before the bell rang.
Walking through the small main hallway, my wet shoes made quiet squeaking noises on the shiny linoleum. Just being here, though, seemed to comfort me. It wasn't the blood-stained house I came from. I made my way into my classroom, glad the door was open.
"Hi there, Leandra." My teacher, Mr. Daniels spoke, looking up from his desk, "Didn't feel up to playing outside today?" I shook my head, sitting down at my desk.
I took my hat from my head, letting my hair fall down in front of my face, and laying it flat on my desk. Taking my little backpack off, I laid it under my desk at my feet. Keeping tabs on it by tucking my foot through one of the loops. I'd know if it was moved, and I'd punch the one moving it.
I often came inside first thing upon getting to school, so this was nothing new to him. My lack of a jacket stopped bothering him long ago, and much like he always did, he sighed and looked back down at whatever was on his desk.
I never bothered him sitting in here, so he never minded. I was quiet, and all I ever did was just sit here. Sometimes snoozing, other times staring at my hat. Absentmindedly smoothing it flat over the desk. Just like I was doing now.
The longer I sat there in the silence, the more I felt myself unwinding. Relaxing from the hectic weekend I'd just had, receiving one of the worst beatings I'd gotten in awhile. I could still feel each slam of the belt against my skin. I could still hear the way he grunted with effort as he brought it down over me. It still echoed in the back of my mind, along with my cries for mercy, and I hoped I'd have at least a night off, but I doubted it. Those were few and far between.
I stared down at my hands as I slowly smoothed my hat out, making sure to stay sitting up straight, and keeping my back off the back of the seat. That would have been intolerable. Not with how fresh these welts were.
"Are you excited for the field trip today?" Mr. Daniels asked me, and I jumped. Not expecting his attempt at a conversation. I just shrugged gingerly, keeping my eyes on my hands. I was never excited for anything anymore, to be honest.
In fact, I hated the field trip today. If it weren't for the stupid field trip, I would be able to look forward to eating something today. I wouldn't be missing out on lunch if it weren't for this stupid field trip.
"Did you have a nice weekend?" He asked, and I began to fear he was looking too closely.
"Always do." I mumbled quietly. I nearly choked on the words, hating the way my lie burned in my mouth. Inside, I was screaming, crying so hard. On the outside, however, I just continued to smooth my hat over my desk. Perhaps only a bit more tensely flattening it with unshed tears in my eyes.
"That's good." He replied, a small smile on his face. He stopped trying to make conversation after that, probably sensing I wasn't up for talking. I really wasn't.
I never spoke much during school. I never acted out, and I never caused any problems. I was always afraid that if I spoke too much, I'd start screaming and never stop, so I kept silent.
The bell rang a few minutes later, calling all the other kids into class. I kept my gaze down as the desks around me became occupied. I tucked my little bag closer between my feet, paranoid somebody was going to try and take it from me. I knew we'd only be sitting here for maybe half an hour, before we all had to get up again and go out to the bus, so I relaxed the best I could in my seat.
Mr. Daniels began his stupid speech about manners and behaving ourselves once everyone shut up enough to listen. How we all wanted to make a good impression on the high school students.
I would have much preferred to just stay where I was. I already knew I was going to hate the high school as much as I hated this one. It would never be anything more to me than somewhere to go to let myself heal a little bit from Jack's actions before being forced to go right back home for more.
I'd tried running away from home once. When I was five. I never made it passed the back steps. The night around me had scared me deeply, and I froze where I stood until Jack lifted me and carried me back inside. Where I received a beating, the threat of losing my life if I ever tried that again, and locked in my room for two days. Needless to say, I never tried that again.
"You have nothing to be nervous about." Mr. Daniels smiled at me, patting my shoulder as he saw my hesitation outside beside the bus. I swallowed the shout of pain and sighed, resigned to my fate.
It certainly didn't help that I was the smallest in my class. Most kids in my class were over 4 foot, I was still stuck far under that. I'd always been small, probably thanks to Jack starving me most of my life. I didn't grow as I should have started to by now.
One bus could easily hold all of us. The yellow of the bus seemed ominous to me, like I wanted to turn and run from it. I just knew today was going to bite.
"Come on, Leandra." Mr. Daniels urged me and I sighed again, stepping forward and climbing the steep steps. Walking down the aisle until I got near the back, I chose myself a seat on the left, and sat down near the window.
I fixed my hair until it was covering my face once again and I stared out the window, already in my own world, ignoring everyone around me. I wished I could say the others ignored me too, but that wasn't the case. I did sometimes have my blissfully ignored moments, but a lot of the other girls didn't think I was "cool" enough to be left alone. Rachel especially.
The bullying got bad sometimes, but it wasn't anything like I received at home, so I was thankful it hadn't escalated yet.
I didn't even look over when the seat next to me became occupied. I just gingerly slid down in my seat, my knees resting in the middle of the seat in front of me as I stared up at the window.
Too soon, we were all on our way.
"Hi, Leandra." I sighed at the voice of Rachel in the occupied seat beside me. I was considerably smaller than she was. I was the runt of the class, which already called for some picking on me. She didn't like me because I'd spit at her once, and she knew I didn't like her.
"Hi, Rachel." I murmured, trying to be polite.
"So." She started, and I already wanted to hit her, "You wore that shirt on Friday. Do you have anything else?" I closed my eyes, forcing my temper in check.
"No." I said sarcastically, "There wasn't any fabric left after they made your shirt." If I wasn't so tired of her, I probably would have had some kind of emotion in my voice.
She laughed, "You know, I don't know why you bother coming to school at all. You're not smart enough to learn anything." Her sneer was beginning to irritate me. I honestly had no idea what made the other kids attempt to bring me lower than I already was. As if I weren't low enough, they had to try and shove my face deeper into the dirt. I literally never spoke to them. I minded my own business at all costs.
I glared at her. I already knew I wasn't very smart, but her trying to bug me by pointing it out was starting to bug me.
"You're so ugly. That's why you have to wear that make-up." She laughed, switching seats. I sighed, sliding back down in my seat. I already knew that too, thank you.
"At least I have an excuse." I said a little louder than I should have, "What's yours, Rachel?"
"What?" She asked, standing back up and sitting beside me again.
"You heard me." I murmured, not bothering to look at her.
"No I didn't." She snapped, "What did you say?"
"I said, at least I have an excuse. What is yours?" I looked at her.
I flinched at the rough slap she gave me. Involuntary tears coming to my eyes. Though her slap was nowhere near the strength I was used to, it triggered my instinct to cry. After a moment of her laughing at the few tears that trailed down my cheeks, I looked at her, glaring now.
Without thinking, I brought my fist across her face. The way it'd always been done to me. As hard as I could. I didn't think. She hit me, so I hit her back. She started to cry harder than I had, and immediately unoccupied the seat beside me.
"Sorry, Rachel." I snapped. I continued to cry as well, glaring back out the window. Though it wasn't near the degree of Rachel's tears. I'd dealt with a lot worse than what she gave me. Rachel's horde of friends glared my way as they comforted her.
I hated the way she thought she could hit me and not get hit in return. There was only one person who was allowed to hit me, and that was Jack. I cried quietly, hating Rachel even more.
All I wanted, ever, was to be left alone. Why couldn't anyone see that? I would survive my days at school, and all I asked was to not be bothered. Was that so much to ask for? I didn't think it was. I found myself thinking thoughts that I often did.
I didn't have much of a future where I was living. I didn't have much of anything where I was living. I didn't have anything to look forward to, except beatings every day. Maybe the next one would kill me. Maybe this next one would be the last, and I could finally just let everything go. I cried harder thinking about that, ignoring Rachel's sniffling laugh behind me at the sight of me still crying.
Though I was only nine years old, I already found myself aching on a daily basis for it all to end. I was so tired already, having been through so much in just nine years, I didn't care what the rest of my life had in store for me. I didn't care. I just wanted a way out.
Count on teachers not to be paying attention to what was happening in the back of the bus. Not that that was anything new. The teachers, the ones supposed to be paying attention, were the only ones that ever did leave me alone. I was the quiet one, so they got lazy.
The twenty minute ride was uneventful from there.
We pulled out front of the high school, and everyone started standing before the bus had even stopped moving. I knew what the high schoolers were probably thinking. Great, a bus-load of brats.
I stood, and as I went to step out into the aisle, Rachel placed her hand on my head, shoving me roughly back into the seat. Again, I swallowed back the loud cry of pain that exploded through me once I landed back against the side of the bus, squeezing left over tears out of my eyes as I fought for breath. A choking, quiet sob left me once I managed to stand again, having to pull myself up by the back of the seat in front of me. I was the last to climb off, dabbing tears from my cheeks, hoping the concealer had stayed after my emotional bus ride.
As soon as I made my way off the steps, Mr. Daniels took me aside.
"Leandra, did you hit Rachel?" He asked quietly. Shit. She ratted. A tremble rolled through me as I hoped beyond hope that Mr. Daniels didn't decide to call Jack.
"Yes." I said, "But she hit me first."
"I'm going to let it slide, since you both seem okay." He said, "But you girls need to learn to get along. I'm switching you to her group for the day."
"What?" I whined, looking up at him, "That's not fair!"
"I'm sorry, Leandra." He said, turning back to the rest of the class. I huffed and stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets. Great. Just fucking perfect. What chance I had at any kind of fun I'd have today was just smashed into little tiny pieces.
I gripped my little backpack closer to me, leaving my eyes down. Glaring at the ground, I waited for the teachers to hurry up and make sure we were all accounted for. It'd never happened before, but I wondered what they'd do if they ever lost one of us before the field trip even really started.
What was the protocol for being an unobservant dumbass?
I was half tempted to run off, just to see what they did. I never would, but I was honestly curious. I doubted they would even notice anyway.
"Alright." I looked back up, squinting up at Mr. Daniels, "Find your groups. Know your chaperone. They're the ones that will be escorting you around campus." We each were given a paper, telling us where to go and when. On this paper was a map of the school, in case any of us got separated. It also had a list of our group member's names, with the exception of one name on my list being crossed off, and my name written below it. The one I took the place of, Julie, didn't seem to mind the fact that she'd changed groups.
Lucky me, Mr. Daniels was our chaperone. Probably to keep an eye on Rachel and I.
There were only enough of us fourth graders for three groups of four, so it'd be easy to keep track of everyone. Only one group would visit a class at once, alternating between them. By the end of the day, we'd have visited all of the classes. It was a way to let us get to know the high school for later on. Educational, and supposedly, fun.
Holding the piece of paper in my hands, I studied it as we began to walk. Unfortunately, Rachel and I were pressed tighter together in the group. I felt a foot place itself in front of mine, and I hit the ground with a whimpering cough. The landing spread pain throughout my body once more, and I couldn't hold back the quiet sob. That was quickly getting old, and I looked up, glaring after Rachel with my teeth clenched.
Picking myself up off the wet pavement, I watched Rachel as she grinned my way, continuing on with the group. One of the other teachers that had come along, Mrs. Kline, helped me up.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" She asked, concerned.
"No." I grumbled, dusting off my jeans.
"What happened?" She asked, frowning as she watched me try and collect myself.
"I tripped." I told her dismissively. I bent down and picked up the piece of paper, now wet and crinkled. I smoothed it out, biting back tears as I quickly continued on to catch up to Mr. Daniels. Of course, the fact that he was deep in conversation with Mr. Carter was reason enough to not have seen that.
I watched as most of the class split up before heading into one of the several buildings with my group. I made sure to keep distance between Rachel and me for the time being. Hating her even worse with each throb of pain that pounded through me. I felt my patience with her thinning, and the day had just started.
I wasn't usually one to have a temper, staying steadily bitter, but she was pushing it. She wasn't normally this persistent, and I half wondered why she was such a bitch today.
I quickly decided I didn't care the reason why. All I cared about was the fact that if she didn't knock it off soon, I'd probably wind up getting into trouble. Wouldn't that be fitting? Pushing her down a flight of stairs, and me getting into trouble for it. Picturing that, imagining pushing her down a flight of stairs brightened my day just a little bit.
I sighed and followed, sticking close by Mr. Daniels as we made our way into the first class. Looking around carefully, the older kids' eyes were on us as we stepped into the room. Some seeming annoyed, others enthusiastic about our arrival. The high school students all sat watching as we made our way in. Some of their faces lit up at our apparent "cuteness".
"Class, your first group is here." The teacher announced to them, "Move into your groups, and choose a student." The desks had already been rearranged, pushed into large groups of four. One of us for a large group of theirs. I looked down, already hating this day.
I stepped closer to Mr. Daniels, but that didn't hide me enough not to be chosen.
A boy in my group was chosen first, before I heard a very feminine voice call, "The small, dark haired girl." I looked up, realizing I was the only dark haired girl in my group. I looked to the group that had someone standing, and was greeted with a very kind, enthusiastic smile from the girl that stood watching me.
At least I was chosen before Rachel was, and I glanced at her, smirking. I hesitated only a few seconds before crossing the room and making my way toward the group that had chosen me. I couldn't force myself to smile back at the girl who had chosen me as I took the empty seat beside her, no matter how hard I tried. I was tired, and thanks to hitting the ground outside, I ached badly.
I sat slowly, trying so hard to ignore the constant pain I was in and staring at the floor. I hated that we were forced to be doing this, and wished I had just "forgotten" to have Jack sign the stupid permission slip.
"Hi." I flinched at the girl's over-enthusiastic greeting, looking up wide eyed, "What's your name?"
This girl seemed too happy, too chipper for this miserable day. This was the one that had picked me. Her smile was still kind, as were her golden eyes as I met them. For a moment, only one second in time, I swore she looked at me as if she'd met me before. Like she already knew me, and it shook me.
I looked back down, trying to gather my thoughts. There was no way she could know me. I didn't know anybody.
"I-I'm Leandra." I murmured quietly. Awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I'm Alice." The chipper girl smiled at me. I simply nodded a little.
I turned my head, looking at Rachel's group, glaring at her laughing. I shook my head and turned back forward, now glaring at the table. Running my hands over the printed wooden patterns. Like Rachel needed any more reason to feel better than everyone else.
"You don't like her?" Alice asked, and I simply shrugged gently, and I glanced up.
Her deep golden eyes seemed out of place, but her short black hair accentuated her features fairly well. She really was beautiful, making me not like her just a bit. Some kids had it all. Despite the jealousy, however, she had this air of happiness that seemed to draw me to her. I liked her, despite being devastatingly jealous of her.
"No." I finally said, looking down, "I don't. She's such a little..." I bit my tongue around the word I wanted to use, "Brat."
I turned my head again, my hair uncovering part of my face. I watched Rachel laugh, giggling obnoxiously along with the group she'd been chosen by. I desperately ached to hit her.
"Why not?" Alice asked. The rest of the group seemed content with leaving her to ask all the questions, not caring one bit that we hadn't gotten into anything in particular. Choosing to use this time to socialize with each other.
"I-I don't know.." I wasn't used to being asked so many questions. Normally, nobody ever persisted this much, "She's not the easiest person to like." Instead of clamming up like I normally did, I found myself wanting to answer Alice's questions.
"Is she mean to you?"
"Yeah." I murmured, "All the time." I couldn't help but answer her. It was the strangest feeling, actually having a conversation with someone. Being spoken to, and actually responding. Like a normal person. This didn't happen that often.
"Well, don't listen to whatever she tells you." She said, smiling, "Don't let someone like that get you down."
"Yeah." I snorted, looking down, "I wish it was that easy."
A short silence took place and I felt her studying my expression. For a small second, I feared some of the concealer had come off of my cheek. There was no way for me to check, so I had to settle with easing my nerves by the fact that nobody had freaked out. I kept my gaze down, trying to slow my racing heart.
"Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?" She asked, her smile fading in concern. For the oddest reason, I had to force back tears. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision enough to see the desk under my hands. The last thing I needed was to cry at such a simple question. Hoping she didn't see that, I cleared my throat quietly, and sighed.
"You have no idea." I gave her a forced smile, hoping to ease her concern.
"I think I can imagine." She replied, not falling for it. Something about the gold in her eyes made me uncomfortable in a way. It made me feel as if she were actually seeing me. Not just looking at me, but her piercing gaze made me feel as if she could see every single thing I tried to hide.
I stared at my hands flat on the table, sliding them back and forth nervously.
I shook my head. There was no way. Shoving away the urge to hope. Even if she did have the slightest inkling of what went on at home, there would be nothing she could do. I scolded myself quietly. I had to get it together. I was already out of my element, and that made this harder.
"So." She said, and I looked back up at her, "Tell me about yourself." Her tone had completely changed, throwing me off again. It returned to the same, chipper tone she'd first used. Open, friendly.
"There isn't much to know." I replied, gently getting more comfortable in the seat, "I'm pretty boring."
"I'm sure you're plenty fascinating." The way she said that made me believe her, if only for a moment. The smile she gave me was slightly contagious as well. I gave her a small, genuine one in return. I was quickly growing to like her. Too bad I'd never see her again after this class.
"Well, what do you want to know?" I asked, meeting her eyes again.
"How old are you?" She asked curiously.
"Same as everyone else in my class." I said, "Nine."
"You're just a baby." She smiled, "You look a lot younger."
"I know." I said, my mood dropping as did my gaze. I blushed, sensitive about my height. It really wasn't her fault. I also knew that talking to people took practice. Practice I never actually got.
"I only meant," She said quickly, trying to make up for her comment, "That I thought you had maybe skipped ahead a grade."
I sighed, shaking my head, "I'm not smart enough for that."
"Oh." She said, seeming worried now, "Okay, well. Tell me about home."
"No." I told her flatly, looking up again. She seemed slightly surprised at the finality of my tone. There was a quiet pause as we held each other's gaze. A solid wall of defense in my gaze until I realized that she'd meant no harm by that request. I was being rude, which I often did when someone asked about that part of my life. I looked back down, cursing quietly to myself.
The defense stayed there, but oddly, I wanted to fix it.
"Sorry. I just.." I trailed off, unsure of what excuse to give her.
"It's okay." She said quietly, comfortingly, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"I don't like talking about that." I murmured, shaking my head gently, "Pick a different question."
Luckily, the others still seemed fine with Alice and I talking. They didn't bother interrupting us the entire hour we talked, letting Alice do all the interacting with me. We covered no part of what they'd been covering in class, and I was okay with that as well. I didn't mind so much just talking to her.
After the first iffy question, Alice seemed to know to carefully avoid any others like it.
"So tell me." Alice smiled again, "What's your favorite subject in school?" That was plenty acceptable to talk about, even if the answer was boring.
"I don't really have one." I shrugged gently, and she laughed.
"Okay, what's your least favorite?"
"Math." I answered that one easily, "I hate it, and it hates me." She laughed. I had no idea my answer would be that amusing.
"I'm sure you'll get it." She replied, and I shook my head a little.
"I get it." I corrected, "I just hate it. I'm not that good with numbers and stuff. I dunno."
"It's not for everyone." She assured me.
"Maybe." I sighed a little, "What's your favorite?"
"I don't really have a favorite." She answered thoughtfully, "I think I like them all equally."
"Oh." I nodded a little, "Then you can do my math for me." She laughed again. Was I that funny, and never knew it?
"I can certainly help you with it sometime." She offered, and I didn't really know what to say to that. It threw me off that she'd offer.
"How about hobbies?" She prompted, and I pursed my lips a little in thought. I searched my mind, but honestly couldn't come up with one.
"Um.." I hesitated, and she smiled again.
"Do you like reading?" She asked, "Sports?" I made a face, and she laughed.
"Definitely no sports." I replied, "I guess I read a lot. I like to read more than I like to watch TV."
"See, that's something." She smiled, and I couldn't help smiling a little as well. She went on, "That just proves you're more creative than other kids your age."
The way she talked to me was also something I wasn't used to. She was so encouraging without even trying. It was a nice change, even if I didn't really know how to react.
"What kind of books do you like to read?" She asked, interested.
"Anything." I answered honestly, "Whatever I can. I like all kinds of books. I don't really have that many at home, though." I'd mentioned the dreaded 'H' word, and I tensed. I knew she picked it up.
"That's a shame." She replied, "There's always the library."
"I don't live near one." I said, "I wish I did. I'd probably live there." I smiled a little, amused at the thought. Honestly, if I had anywhere else to go, wherever that place was would have a hard time getting rid of me. A library would be perfect. I wasn't much of a talker, anyway.
I definitely wasn't used to this much talking, and my voice was starting to hurt. I didn't mind, though, and just for a moment, I nearly forgot about how much pain I was in. Just talking to Alice distracted me for one blissful hour.
Sitting beside her, I felt the strangest sense of protection. As if just having a friend like her, people like Rachel no longer mattered. For an hour of time, the field trip seemed bearable. For an hour, I nearly forgot about what waited for me at home. I nearly forgot about how hopeless everything seemed, and without even really knowing her, I wanted to be like her.
I didn't even notice it at first, but being spoken to like a person was addicting, and it reached a part of me I really wasn't familiar with.
The entire time I answered her questions, she had given me her full attention. It was very strange to me, but I found I liked it. I was used to being in the background, always just there. Never listened to, never given a second glance. Never receiving attention, unless it was meant to hurt me in some way.
I found myself meeting her eyes more often, and I found myself smiling just a bit more often. I'd never had the opportunity to just talk, and it felt good. I chose my answers carefully, of course, but I could speak.
By the time we had to leave, I didn't want to. I nearly cried saying goodbye to her.
At the end of the hour, Alice stood up as my class did and gently hugged me. The very slightest pressure that she gave me told me that she was being incredibly careful, which completely threw me off. How'd she know that any harder pressure would have hurt?
Not to mention the fact that I wasn't used to being hugged. Not in the slightest. I was so shocked, I didn't know what to do. She didn't seem discouraged by the fact that I didn't hug her back. Was I supposed to?
"Stay strong, Leandra." She told me as she pulled away, and I looked up at her, "You're going to be just fine."
She seemed so sure about that. So confident. It confused me, and I wanted to ask her what on earth made her say that. She had no idea what I faced on a daily basis, so why would she say something like that? For one more second, it seemed as if she did know. She did understand, and she did have an idea. It was the strangest feeling. One I'd never had before.
Though the rest of the group clearly found this behavior strange, they didn't comment.
"I don't know." I found myself murmuring in response, meeting her eyes briefly before Mr. Daniels called me again. I glanced back to him, before sighing heavily, "And thank you. For talking to me."
"Why would she do that?" Rachel's sneer behind me made me close my eyes and look down, "She was probably bored to tears the whole hour."
"Actually," Alice replied, making Rachel pause and look back, "Leandra is very fascinating to talk to. I found her very intelligent and incredibly polite. She, very easily, held my attention the entire time she spoke to me." I smiled, despite the situation. Rachel didn't reply, aside from huffing and storming away.
"Thanks." I murmured, looking back up at Alice, "That definitely shut her up. At least for now."
"Any time." She smiled encouragingly at me, and I couldn't help but return it.
"Leandra." Mr. Daniels called, "Let's go." I sighed, my smile fading.
"Bye." I told her.
"Take care, Leandra." She told me, and I paused before turning. Making my way toward the door where Mr. Daniels stood waiting. I was sure as I left the room that Alice had no idea how much she'd helped me.
To be distracted for even that short amount of time from the hell I lived in meant more to me than I could ever begin to explain. She gave me a break. A chance for my mind to just stop for a moment. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought about how bad it would bother me to let that go.
Despite that, though, my gratitude was deep.
A/N: Well, that wasn't bad for the first chapter, was it? I'm gonna leave this here, and wander off to go check on chapter two. The chapters will be getting longer from here.
Please, please, please do me a huge favor and review. Let me know your thoughts. Loved it? Didn't care for it? I wanna know. It'll literally take thirty seconds of your time, and it'll mean SO much to me, you have no idea.
Anyhoo.
Until chapter two, my friends!
