Circle

I took a deep breath, and headed down the stairs.

After the locker, I couldn't stand going to school anymore. I had tried. I really had tried, but it was beyond me. I couldn't stand any of it. I had suffered so much, I could have easily died, and Winslow high kept on spinning like it didn't matter, like it hadn't never happened. Like I had stepped into another world, leaving only my memories. I was unbearable. To know that you didn't matter to anybody. To know that the people who were supposed to look out for you looked at something that had scared you for life as nothing more that a stain that they wanted to sweep under the rug, and indeed they had.

I couldn't stay even more day with those three still there. I would live in fear of the time they would cross the line again… and that I wouldn't be so lucky, next time. I wanted to leave school, but I couldn't unless I told dad everything. Unless I told him how things really were, rather that letting him believe that the school was at least trying to make good of their promises. The hard part was actually telling him.

The bullying campaign that they had maintained for so long hurt, because of Emma's betrayal, my miserable day life, the breaking of mother's flute and all the things they had done to me, the things that made my life a living hell. But it all hurt all the more because I was ashamed because I couldn't prevent it, because I was so weak. And because I didn't want to admit things were this bad to another person, even my own father. It didn't make much sense, but feelings were always very removed from logic.

The smell coming from the kitchen was nice, but I had more important things on my mind, and I doubted I could digest anything right now. I sat down on a chair in the kitchen table. Dad turned towards me, about to tell me something, with a plate of food in his hands. He fell silent immediately.

"What's wrong?"

My hands clenched into fists.

"I… I have to tell you something." I managed to stammer out. And I told him. I keep my head down all the while because I knew that if had to look at him-see his pity, his anger, his pain- I wouldn't be able to finish. That way, I managed to tell him everything. About summer camp, about Emma, about Sophia, about life in Winslow. Everything that had happened.

"That's..:" I could see him running his hands through his hair, even though I was still looking at the ground. "Fuck. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I looked up at him, my eyes a little misty.

"I did."

"W-what? No."

"I tried, at least. But you were feeling too sorry for yourself to remember that I need you!"

A stinging pain on my cheek. I took a moment for me to finally realize what had just happened. He had slapped me. Dad had slapped me. The person I thought I could always trust, the person that was supposed to never betray me, unlike everybody. I poured my heart out to him, and this… this was what I got. This was what I got.

My vision exp… no, rather, it was my consciousness that expanded. Darkness. A void. The spinning, spinning stars. And, something. A glimpse of something greater between the cracks. It faded. Like it had never existed. I was crying. But what filled me wasn't sadness, but anger. He was an eyesore.

"I-I'm sorry," dad spluttered. "I didn't meant it, Taylor, I'm sorry..."

I looked at him in the eyes.

"You," I took a deep breath. "It all would be better if you had been in that car accident, instead of mum. Just," I spat. "Die."

Suddenly, he stopped, like a puppet with his strings cut. My throat was dry. I wanted to apologize for my words, but for some reason I felt a deep sense of unease. He turned around, without a word.

"Dad?" I called out to him, my broken voice trembling even more because of that irrational fear.

He opened a cupboard, and took out of a knife.

"What are you…!" I squeaked. My words died in my throat when he drove that knife through his throat.

I tried to scream, but the only thing that came out was a chocking sob. I rushed towards the phone, even knowing than that injure was lethal. They picked up, after what seemed like an eternity. I told her my name, the emergency. Our home address, the nearest intersection. And I just let the phone fall, leaving it hanging from the cord, when the conversation finished.

I rushed to his side, keeled in front of him. I felt sick. Blood. There was so much blood. There was no way he could survive this. I looked into his eyes. He wasn't even conscious of himself anymore. Not really. His struggles were only worsening his situation, and his eyes were wide, unfocused. He was shaking all over as if in the middle of a seizure. I grabbed his hand, clenched it.

"Please… please, stop. They are going to come soon. You're going to be all right." I shallowed. A hellish nausea, as if my organs had come up my throat. "You're going to be all right." I repeated it, trying to convince myself. "Everything is going to be fine."

My voice was barely audible at the end, and I was crying so much I could only barely see him through the haze of my tears. But I felt it. When he stopped moving. When all life went out of him. I put my head on his chest, over his head. Nothing. I couldn't heard his heart beating. There was not even a trace of it

I hugged him, uncaring that it wasn't my father anymore, uncaring of the blood. I clung to the corpse beneath me, who was still warm, trembling all over, crying with my face against its chest. There was no way this could have actually happened. Some part of me believed that, even at this point. But the biggest part of me knew that it was such a poor lie that I couldn't even fool myself.

I drew back. After an eternity, I drew back. I stared at his face, the snapshot of the horror, confusion and pain that had been his last moments. I stood up, went to the bathroom, looked myself in the mirror. Looked at the blood staining my hair, my shirt. I didn't know this could happen. I didn't know, but so what? I looked at him in the eyes, and told him to die. It had been only for a moment, but for that moment I wished for his dead from the bottom of my heart.

Things had started to go my way right on time to cause this tragedy to happen.

I laughed. There was nothing funny, but I laughed. My maddened laughter echoed in the empty, empty house. I showered to wipe the blood off of me, and I changed clothes.

"See you later." I said to the corpse of the kitchen as I stepped outside.

I headed for Winslow.

Lunch period had already started when I entered, but it didn't matter. Still had plenty of time. It didn't take me long to find them. They were alone together, on the rooftop. All three of them. They turned to me, surprised, and that surprise turned into a leer of disdain and anticipation. Anticipation for another turn hurting poor, helpless, worthless Taylor Hebert.

"So you came today, in the end." Emma said. "Finally mustered what little courage you have, uh? How pathetic."

Sophia just kept digging into her food, as if nothing was happening. I looked at them, all three of them, without saying anything.

"Emma, Madison, Sophia." they looked at me. "Die."

They didn't move looking for a way to kill themselves, like my dad had done. No. From the eyes, to the brain. A signal, a spark, commanding their bodies to die. They simply faded away in front of my eyes, and in instant there were only three corpses there, in the same position they had been a moment before, as if their lives had been switches and I had turned them off. They hadn't even realized what had happened.

The last thing they had of this world was my voice commanding them to die.

I laughed again. I climbed up the fence, to the top. The wind whipped, but I barely felt it. A rush of happiness was flowing through me. I smiled. I closed my eyes…

And I took flight.