Sweat poured down my forehead. I had to tell someone, anyone. I don't even have to tell anyone in general. Just write it down. Like those Sharpie commercials, write out loud. I had to let those three words stare at me. I had to admit it to myself.
I looked up from the blank paper. We were supposed to be doing a test for career day. I'm not doing it. I don't want a career. I don't deserve a career. I wasn't made for a career. I was made to be miserable.
I
I wrote the first word, a single letter that stood by itself, as slow as possible. I felt a pair of eyes on me. Crap. Had the teacher already found me writing? I looked and saw the teacher was far behind me, peering over other kids shoulders. I looked forward and my eyes were met with Edward Cullen's. I gave him the 'what-are-you-looking-at' look, using my hands and shoulders to. He slowly turned his torso back around and was back into his own world.
I W
My hand was shaking. I don't think I can write anymore. No. I have to. This is a must. I wrote the next words fast. I let them stare me in the face and let reality sink in on me. It wasn't that luscious first time that you read about in magazines. It wasn't beautiful. It was ugly.
I WAS RAPED
I shoved it into my desk but teacher sort-of caught me.
"Ms. Swan, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" She stares me down through her square glasses.
My throat closes. "No Ma'am." I got control of my voice so I didn't stutter. The bell rang before she had a chance to question it.
I tried hard not to rush too quickly out of the classroom. I still felt eyes on me. More than a pair. All of them burning holes into my back. One burning fire got me to look back.
Edward Cullen was staring at me.
