Startled by the unexpected sound of a sobbing girl, my first instinct was to try to comfort her. But I was faced with two problems—first of all, I had no idea who she was. I didn't know if she was someone I had met before, or if she may be a complete stranger.
Second, she had taken shelter in the girls' restroom—this wasn't really an issue, because there was no one around; all the students had gone home, and I was one of the few that remained. The halls were currently empty. What I was worried about was the fact that a boy just walking right into the girls' bathroom might startle the girl inside, and by the sound of her anguished cried, that was a really bad idea.
Hoping that it would help with the second situation just a little, I tied my long hair back into a loose ponytail. Though it would be obvious that I wasn't really a girl, as I was wearing the boys' school uniform, I hoped that it would lessen the shock, if only a little.
Stepping quietly around the corner and into the restroom, I looked around for the source of the crying—the girl was obviously in one of the stalls. Walking quietly up to the only one that was closed, I knocked lightly on the door. "Are you alright in there?" I asked in a voice that wasn't my own—it was much higher, and very feminine. The agonized cried abruptly stopped, but there was a lot of sniffling coming from behind the closed door.
"I-I'm o-okay..." I had no clue why, but the voice, though shaky, sounded familiar to me. I wondered if she was a girl from one of my classes.
Still keeping my voice at the higher pitch, I asked gently, "Would you like to talk?" I was hoping to comfort the girl—I didn't like to see anyone crying, and the very thought that she may be someone I knew made me want to help her even more. However, I received no reply.
I continued to stand outside the stall, listening to the pitiful sniffling from inside. I figured that if I pried too much, she would refuse to come out at all, so I remained silent. After several more moments, I was ready to give up. It pained me to leave the girl; her cries had tugged at my heart, and I wanted so badly to talk to her, to see if there was anything I could possibly do. But that would be impossible if she refused to come out of her hiding place.
I sighed and turned away, but from inside the stall came a soft, "Don't go..." So I looked back, wondering if she was finally going to show herself. After about half a minute, the stall door opened slowly, and a small girl looked up at me with tear-filled hazel eyes. And those eyes widened in total shock as she recognized me, as I was sure mine did when I realized who I was looking at.
The shock only lasted for a minute or so before she remembered why she'd been crying in the first place, calling forth a round of fresh tears. The sight of her crying was enough to snap me out of my stupor as well, and I rested my hand on her shoulder. I was right about her being someone I knew—but I'd thought that she would be someone I only knew vaguely, such as someone in my class that I wasn't really acquainted with. This girl, however, was quite the opposite, and someone that I knew rather well. "Rima-chan, why are you crying?"
The little blonde wiped her eyes with her tiny fists, but the tears didn't stop. If anything, they got worse. I was a little worried—the only tears I'd ever seen Rima cry had been fake, but I could tell that these were very real, and I wondered what could possibly upset her this much. I led her over to the wall and sat down on the floor, leaning against it. She did the same, though the tears didn't let up in the least as she did so. Rima buried her face in her knees and curled up into a remarkably ball-like position. Her tiny shoulders shook with her sobs, and I felt bad for her. I didn't know what was wrong, but I didn't want to ask for fear of upsetting her further.
Instead, I gently put my arm around her, trying to calm the small girl. After several long moments, the sobs died down a little, and her breathing became a bit steadier. Trying to comfort her, I gently rubbed her back while she seemed to be concentrating on breathing evenly.
She didn't uncurl her body, but her left hand, resting against her leg, attracted my attention. Looking closer, I was able to see another bruise marking the pale skin on her wrist, only half-covered by the cuff of her long-sleeved uniform. Curiously, I took hold of the sleeve and started to pull it up—Rima slapped my hand away harshly, and a part of me thought that I shouldn't have expected anything less. But that wasn't my main concern at the moment—the glimpse of Rima's arm that I had gotten, though I hadn't been able to get her sleeve up very far, stunned me. There were several bruises dotted across the part of her forearm that I had been able to see, as well as a scratch or two.
Rima hastily tugged her sleeve back into place and glared angrily up at me, tears still flowing freely from her hazel eyes. "Take your hair down. You look stupid," she said, and though she tried to sound annoyed and angry, the obvious tremble in her voice, when added to the tears, made it clear that she was still very upset.
Doing as she'd asked, I let my hair down and continued to rub her back comfortingly. After a short while she looked up at me again, and this time she looked wary. "Why are y-you helping m-me...?" she asked, unable to keep her voice from shaking.
I looked at her sympathetically and whispered, "I don't like to see anyone cry—that means you, too." My instinct was to comfort someone when they needed it; I hated to see anyone upset, and a crying girl was no exception; even if that girl happened to hate my guts.
She still hadn't stopped crying, and I was really starting to worry. I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off. "R-relax," she said quietly, and I was glad that she didn't sound quite so annoyed this time. "I'm o-okay..."
After a few more silent moments, the tears finally slowed, and then stopped altogether. She swiped her little hands across her cheeks, ridding them of the remaining droplets and taking a few shaky breaths. I still had my hand on her back, but she didn't seem to notice—or if she did notice, she didn't seem to mind.
"Rima," I said, but I stopped myself. As curious as I was about the bruises and cuts on her arm as well as her face, I knew that it was none of my business. I also feared that asking any such questions might bring on another round of tears which, if possible, was best to avoid.
She looked up at me, and her eyes showed a startling mix of emotions: anger, sadness, betrayal, hurt... "I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it for long," she said bitterly, and pulled up her sleeve, baring her arm all the way up to her shoulder. My eyes widened; bruises, ranging from small to large, were scattered across her skin. Small scratches marked several places as well.
I suddenly felt as if I was going to throw up. "Rima," I said, choking on the word. I didn't know what to say, or if there were even any words that could be said. I had been right about her lying to the Guardians about her injuries, and now I could see why she'd done it. "Who did this to you?" There was no possible way that someone could sustain so many bruises and scrapes from minor casualties such as tripping or running into something. Someone was hurting her, and I couldn't help but need to know who—it wasn't what I considered being nosy. To me, it was wanting to help a friend.
"Don't worry about it," Rima muttered, tugging her sleeve back down. "It's nothing that I'm not used to." The words told me things that I'd rather not have known—that this had been going on for a while. Rima had been hiding these injuries, and carrying the burden of a huge secret on her tiny shoulders for God-knows-how-long. The thought scared me, and I stared directly at her, my eyes serious.
"Rima," I said, and my voice was no less serious than my eyes, which remained locked with hers. "Who did this to you?"
There was a moment's hesitation, and her eyes flickered away from mine. I could see that she was trying to come up with a story; she was trying to think up a believable lie. I repeated the question, and she finally looked back at me. After several more agonizing seconds, she whispered, "My parents..."