Whoo! New Chapter! Sorry about the non-existant updates last week, and then the site wouldn't let me upload this chapter. (I was sick. . . took 5 doctors a week to figure out what was wrong, but enough about me). Hopefully this chapter doesn't lack too much action. I've got a whole lot of description. This will get better. I promise.
Please people, respond!
"Paige, you're late," Mr. Powell, my English teacher scolded when I got in. I slipped into the seat next to Ashley.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"Do you have a note?"
"No. I was in the washroom. I'm. . . not feeling well."
"That's the second time this week." I braced myself for a lecture, but didn't get any.
"Paige," Ashley whispered near the end of class when Mr. Powell finally stopped talking. He was a nice enough guy, an awesome teacher, but he could talk incessentantly. "Are you feeling okay?"
I shrugged. "I guess as well as you'd expect."
"I mean physically."
I shrugged. "I just haven't been feeling great lately. That's all."
"You said he worse a condom, right?"
I shuddered at the thought of it. "Yeah, Why?"
"Did you get your period since it happened."
"Ash, where's this coming from." I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Have you?"
"Yes! I'm not pregnant."
"Okay. I just wanted to check. How are you doing otherwise?"
"I told you." The bell rang. I gathered my books.
"You'll talk to me if you need to, right?
I nodded. "Thanks, Ash." We started walking out, and Mr. Powell stopped me.
"Can you stay behind a minute?" he asked.
"I'll be late for my next class."
"I'll write you a note." I had no choice. I waited for him to say something.
"What's going on?" he asked. "You were doing really well, then your grades dropped. Then you finally started to bring them back up, and you're slipping again. Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine."
"Then why aren't you doing your work?"
"It's been a week!"
"Then don't let it turn into a month. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"What's with people wanting to help?!"
"People are just worried about you."
"Maybe part of my problem is people won't butt out of my life! This is none of your business! I don't want to talk about it, and even if I did, there's nothing you can do! Just leave me alone!"
He nodded. "If you decide to talk, I'm here. Otherwise, I want a note next time you're late."
I slammed the door shut when I got home. I locked the door and knocked my head against the door. I had had an awful day, and it just seemed to keep getting worse. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water when I saw someone sitting at the kitchen table.
"Shit!" I shouted before I could stop myself. "Mom, you scared me."
She didn't tell me to watch my language. "Sit down, Paige," she told me, a serious expression on her face. I opened the fridge, pulled out a coke and sat across from her.
"I talked to officer Collins today. He told me about the restraining order." I braced myself for a lecture on not telling her about him calling.
"I think it's a great idea. I want to make sure that you're safe at home."
"I agree," I said quickly, relieved. I opened my coke, but didn't take a sip.
"And as far as pressing charges go, I want you to know that I'm here for you."
"Thanks."
"I'm no idiot Paige. I know that the past couple of months have been hard on you. I've been really proud of the way you've handled everything."
"Thanks," I said again.
"I have to get to the airport. Are you going to be okay? Mike'll be home soon."
"He's not working tonight?" My brother worked ridiculously long hours, and usually didn't come home until eleven or twelve, even thought he was still in high school.
"I asked him to take the night off. I have to go to Montreal tonight. I'll be back Friday night. He's going to be here until then."
"Fine." She got up and kissed me on the forehead. "I'll see you Friday. Love you."
"Love you too, mom." I watched her leave, feeling about five years old, watching my mommy go off to work, then went upstairs to check my e-mail. I switched on my computer and I sat down in my chair and waited for the computer to turn on. I hated the times when there was silence. I never felt safe in the silence. He had hurt me in silence. He didn't have to say anything. He could be in my room right now, waiting in silence. I brought my legs up onto the chair, too scared to look in my closet at the risk I would find him lurking there.
I switched on my CD player and put on Our Lady Peace's CD. I tried to get lost in the sounds, the beat, like I normally could in an OLP induced coma, but today it just felt like they were mocking me. "We are, we are all innocent, we are all innocent". I wasn't. I wasn't innocent. I was a slut. There was a time when I had convinced myself that it wasn't my fault, but I had been to naive to know better. I turned off my CD player and logged into my e-mail account. 27 new messages, the screen told me. I clicked on my inbox. Immediately, I saw that all the new messages had one name beside them.
Dean Roberts.
I clicked on one and with my heart pounding, it came onto the screen.
'I warned you Spirit', it read. 'I told you to back off I told you not to mess with me or youd get hurt + now u will pay. cant wait til the next time we get 2gether'
I just stared at the computer for a minute. Then two minutes. And two minutes turned into ten as I played over each horrifying possible scenario in my head. Then, with remarkable calmness, I hit the 'compose' button on my browser and typed in the e-mail address Officer Collins had given me. I typed a quick note, still not able to process my actions, and attached all the e-mails from Dean, then sent them. Then I sat there for another minute. . . two minutes. . . half hour. . .
I reluctantly reached for the phone that snapped me out of my daze. I put it to my ear, but it took me a minute before I could manage a 'hello'.
"Paige? It's Kevin Collins."
I swallowed hard, relieved that it was him, not Dean. "Hi," I barely managed.
"I got the e-mails you forwarded me."
"Um. . . right." It took me a minute to remember. "Can you arrest him now?"
He hesitated. "I tracked the IP address- It's a code that's sent out whenever a computer sends out any information over the internet. It came from Bardell High School, but there's no way of saying for sure that it came from Dean.
Tears burned under my eyes, but I wiped them away. "So he gets it away again?"
"We'll get him, I promise."
"So that's a yes?"
"Paige, I know that it's discouraging, but-"
"No," I said calmly, "You don't." I hung up slowly, and just sat there, perfectly straight. The setting sun reflected off something shiny under my bed. I was hypnotized by it and walked towards it. It was one of the shoes that I had bought the night I went to the party. The other one was sitting behind it. I pulled them out, still hypnotized with them, examined them, slowly turning them. All of a sudden I brought them up over my head and threw them on the ground, then beat them into the ground over and over. I couldn't stop, I couldn't think, all I could do was pound them harder and harder into the ground. Those shoes, that outfit, that hair: all of it had completly ruined my life. I took all my efforts and hit it as hard as possible, and the chunky heel shattered into a bunch of large pieces. Something inside burst, and threre was another sudden calm as I picked up once of the big, sharp, pieces. With a trembling hand, I brought it to my arm, and turned it over to almost touching my wrist, then slowly drew it across. It hurt, but there was something soothing about the crimson blood slowly oozing to the surface and spilling over.
Please people, respond!
"Paige, you're late," Mr. Powell, my English teacher scolded when I got in. I slipped into the seat next to Ashley.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"Do you have a note?"
"No. I was in the washroom. I'm. . . not feeling well."
"That's the second time this week." I braced myself for a lecture, but didn't get any.
"Paige," Ashley whispered near the end of class when Mr. Powell finally stopped talking. He was a nice enough guy, an awesome teacher, but he could talk incessentantly. "Are you feeling okay?"
I shrugged. "I guess as well as you'd expect."
"I mean physically."
I shrugged. "I just haven't been feeling great lately. That's all."
"You said he worse a condom, right?"
I shuddered at the thought of it. "Yeah, Why?"
"Did you get your period since it happened."
"Ash, where's this coming from." I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Have you?"
"Yes! I'm not pregnant."
"Okay. I just wanted to check. How are you doing otherwise?"
"I told you." The bell rang. I gathered my books.
"You'll talk to me if you need to, right?
I nodded. "Thanks, Ash." We started walking out, and Mr. Powell stopped me.
"Can you stay behind a minute?" he asked.
"I'll be late for my next class."
"I'll write you a note." I had no choice. I waited for him to say something.
"What's going on?" he asked. "You were doing really well, then your grades dropped. Then you finally started to bring them back up, and you're slipping again. Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine."
"Then why aren't you doing your work?"
"It's been a week!"
"Then don't let it turn into a month. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"What's with people wanting to help?!"
"People are just worried about you."
"Maybe part of my problem is people won't butt out of my life! This is none of your business! I don't want to talk about it, and even if I did, there's nothing you can do! Just leave me alone!"
He nodded. "If you decide to talk, I'm here. Otherwise, I want a note next time you're late."
I slammed the door shut when I got home. I locked the door and knocked my head against the door. I had had an awful day, and it just seemed to keep getting worse. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water when I saw someone sitting at the kitchen table.
"Shit!" I shouted before I could stop myself. "Mom, you scared me."
She didn't tell me to watch my language. "Sit down, Paige," she told me, a serious expression on her face. I opened the fridge, pulled out a coke and sat across from her.
"I talked to officer Collins today. He told me about the restraining order." I braced myself for a lecture on not telling her about him calling.
"I think it's a great idea. I want to make sure that you're safe at home."
"I agree," I said quickly, relieved. I opened my coke, but didn't take a sip.
"And as far as pressing charges go, I want you to know that I'm here for you."
"Thanks."
"I'm no idiot Paige. I know that the past couple of months have been hard on you. I've been really proud of the way you've handled everything."
"Thanks," I said again.
"I have to get to the airport. Are you going to be okay? Mike'll be home soon."
"He's not working tonight?" My brother worked ridiculously long hours, and usually didn't come home until eleven or twelve, even thought he was still in high school.
"I asked him to take the night off. I have to go to Montreal tonight. I'll be back Friday night. He's going to be here until then."
"Fine." She got up and kissed me on the forehead. "I'll see you Friday. Love you."
"Love you too, mom." I watched her leave, feeling about five years old, watching my mommy go off to work, then went upstairs to check my e-mail. I switched on my computer and I sat down in my chair and waited for the computer to turn on. I hated the times when there was silence. I never felt safe in the silence. He had hurt me in silence. He didn't have to say anything. He could be in my room right now, waiting in silence. I brought my legs up onto the chair, too scared to look in my closet at the risk I would find him lurking there.
I switched on my CD player and put on Our Lady Peace's CD. I tried to get lost in the sounds, the beat, like I normally could in an OLP induced coma, but today it just felt like they were mocking me. "We are, we are all innocent, we are all innocent". I wasn't. I wasn't innocent. I was a slut. There was a time when I had convinced myself that it wasn't my fault, but I had been to naive to know better. I turned off my CD player and logged into my e-mail account. 27 new messages, the screen told me. I clicked on my inbox. Immediately, I saw that all the new messages had one name beside them.
Dean Roberts.
I clicked on one and with my heart pounding, it came onto the screen.
'I warned you Spirit', it read. 'I told you to back off I told you not to mess with me or youd get hurt + now u will pay. cant wait til the next time we get 2gether'
I just stared at the computer for a minute. Then two minutes. And two minutes turned into ten as I played over each horrifying possible scenario in my head. Then, with remarkable calmness, I hit the 'compose' button on my browser and typed in the e-mail address Officer Collins had given me. I typed a quick note, still not able to process my actions, and attached all the e-mails from Dean, then sent them. Then I sat there for another minute. . . two minutes. . . half hour. . .
I reluctantly reached for the phone that snapped me out of my daze. I put it to my ear, but it took me a minute before I could manage a 'hello'.
"Paige? It's Kevin Collins."
I swallowed hard, relieved that it was him, not Dean. "Hi," I barely managed.
"I got the e-mails you forwarded me."
"Um. . . right." It took me a minute to remember. "Can you arrest him now?"
He hesitated. "I tracked the IP address- It's a code that's sent out whenever a computer sends out any information over the internet. It came from Bardell High School, but there's no way of saying for sure that it came from Dean.
Tears burned under my eyes, but I wiped them away. "So he gets it away again?"
"We'll get him, I promise."
"So that's a yes?"
"Paige, I know that it's discouraging, but-"
"No," I said calmly, "You don't." I hung up slowly, and just sat there, perfectly straight. The setting sun reflected off something shiny under my bed. I was hypnotized by it and walked towards it. It was one of the shoes that I had bought the night I went to the party. The other one was sitting behind it. I pulled them out, still hypnotized with them, examined them, slowly turning them. All of a sudden I brought them up over my head and threw them on the ground, then beat them into the ground over and over. I couldn't stop, I couldn't think, all I could do was pound them harder and harder into the ground. Those shoes, that outfit, that hair: all of it had completly ruined my life. I took all my efforts and hit it as hard as possible, and the chunky heel shattered into a bunch of large pieces. Something inside burst, and threre was another sudden calm as I picked up once of the big, sharp, pieces. With a trembling hand, I brought it to my arm, and turned it over to almost touching my wrist, then slowly drew it across. It hurt, but there was something soothing about the crimson blood slowly oozing to the surface and spilling over.