Emilia
The eyes turned to me. They were studying my face, analysing my every movement, undressing me with their eyes, tearing away every emotion until I was nothing more than a black hole in the centre of the room. Please stop looking at me. They all want to know. But they won't hear it from me. Please stop looking at me. All eyes are on me, except the one person who I wish was staring at me, the one person I care about in this hellhole, and he isn't looking. Please look at me.
Kellan
I can't look at her. I don't want to see what they've done. I don't want to know if they've done anything. Questions buzzed round my head, stinging my brain, again and again. How long had she been gone? Was she hurt? Why can't I look at her? Why do I even care? I shouldn't care. She means nothing to me. She's a nought, she's just a nought.
Emilia
Why isn't he looking at me? Why is he the only one? I know what I look like. I know that I am ugly even without the blood and bruises. Do I disgust him that much, that he can't even bear to look at me? I should stop hoping for a world that will never exist, and just except that he will never like me and noughts will never be equals. Even our names are a constant reminder of that. Noughts. Nothings. Completely useless. I shouldn't judge people by their colour of skin, that makes me just as bad as everyone else, but when I see someone I can't help but make assumptions in my head. It's the way that the world I've grown up in works. If you're a Cross, 'congratulations, here's a free pass to life', however if you're a nought, well then life is tough, get used to it.
That's why I love Kellan. When I look at him all I can see is my inadequacy, but when I gaze into his eyes then I lose track of noughts and Crosses, of black and white, and of right and wrong. He's just Kellan and I'm just Emilia, we don't have to be anyone else. I feel like he's the only person with whom I could truly be myself. That sounds so corny. But I know that that's a life I want, but not one I'll ever have.
The bloodthirsty eyes followed me as I walked across the room.
I don't know how long I was gone for; I stopped counting minutes after the first couple of hits. I should have been expecting it, but that sick hope inside me keeps returning like an unwelcome visitor. That's what I was to those girls, an unwelcome visitor in their school. As I was repeatedly reminded with every hit those girls gave me, every blow to the head was the same message again and again. You're just a nought. Bam. You're just a nought. Ow. You're just a nought. Thud. Just a nought. Darkness.