Hey all! This is a new story, one I got the inspiration for from the book Speak, which is a REALLY good book! (So's the graphic novel!)
Anyway, this is what I think would have happened had Melinda still kept silent.
Her little closet was silent. Her Christiana Angelou poster lay half out of her bag and her tree-doll project lay broken on the table. Her lips were bruised and red, her face red with heated shame and self-hate.
She had let it happen again.
She had let IT do it again.
IT DID IT AGAIN.
It hurt her.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, setting her head in her arms.
The room was silent as she cried silently.
She shouldered her bag, stepping out of her closet, closing the door behind her silently. The halls of the school building were quiet, her only friend her thoughts and the bunny Melindas.
Why? Why did you let IT do it again?
He could've hurt me more.
We could have screamed!
No one would've heard; just like Rachel didn't listen to me.
David would listen.
Would he really? A person he barely knows? Yeah right.
She bit her lip hard, trying to block them out or shut them up.
It didn't help at all.
She slipped outside and stared up at the sky, the April breeze blowing through her hair, ruffling it gently. She could hear birds chirping from the trees (trees from Mr. Freeman's art class), the sun just lightly blazing on them with next to no little heat. A cloud crawled by like a snail lazily, reminding her of how she was just a few months ago. How she was after it had happened.
After the party.
In the woods.
With Andy Evans.
The call to the police.
Everyone hating her for it.
Her school life miserable.
Her thoughts turning dark and dangerous.
Her life just crumbling before her eyes.
Rachel.
Heather.
David.
Nicole.
Ivy.
Everyone.
They would never understand what had happened, what Andy Evans had done to her. They would never understand how much it hurt, how much her hurt her. They would never understand how much it hurt to not say it, to not say what happened the night back in August.
No one would understand it.
She sighed, and shouldering her bag once more, turned to walk home.
But she stopped.
Because IT was there, waiting for her.
Andy Evans.