Chapter Twenty-Eight

~ Maka ~

James pushed back his chair as he stood up in front of me, the scraping of the chairs legs piercing at my eardrums.

"I'm going for a piss," he announced, putting his cigarette packet in his jeans pocket. "Will you be okay?"

I nodded slowly, feeling my nerves take their gripping hold on me, and shake me from side to side.

But within seconds he was gone, pacing through the doorway of the house and disappearing in the crowds of people that slurred around inside, spilling their drinks and kissing people they shouldn't.

Kid still wasn't back. I wanted to go searching for him, but I was terrified of everyone around me, every moving soul that even brushed upon the outline of my existence. I had never been so nervous in the whole of my life.

The bitter wind grasped at the strands of my hair and draped them across my cheeks. As if my loneliness was the cause for the cracks against my skin, and the creator of my imperfections.

My stubbly legs rubbed together beneath the table, the rough feeling stinging at my skin and scratching at my flesh altogether. But the more I did it, the more my legs began to feel numb – and it felt amazing.

The wounds on my wrists stared up at me, hating me as their creator, hating me for the reason why I hated myself, and for the reason they were put there.

I ran my finger across the wound against my left wrist, feeling the dry blood crack beneath my fingertip and drop to concrete floor beneath me, the cut now weeping and desiring to shed its bloody tears once again.

Oh god I hated it.

The chair was pulled out beside me, the legs scraping across the ground once again as someone sat down. The pressure of their body causing the chair to creak as they adjusted themselves to comfort.

I waited for Kid to apologise for taking so long, so I kept my head to the floor, staring at my wrists as I did so.

"Ouch," they said. "That looks like a bad cat scratch."

I threw my head up to face them, my gaze locking tightly with Black*star's as I did so.

His left eye was black and puffy, and the scratch from where I hit him had scarred against his cheek.

He had a bandaged on his face, but despite its existence, the bruising around his broken nose was still very noticeable.

His eyes looked me up and down. "Well, don't you look pretty."

I stood up to leave, my chair tumbling back as I did so, the clang of the metal hitting against the ground startling everything around me into silence.

Black*star stood up too, his eyes fixating themselves with mine again in the most terrifying way, staring towards me like I was the prey he was about to consume.

I panicked, "leave me alone you pervert!"

"Awe," he chuckled. "Bit harsh?"

Everyone around us stared.

Their eyes watching me like they always did.

Everyone's gaze set on the vulnerable girl within the situation. Everyone's eyes judging me despite if they knew me or not. Despite if their personality was good or not.

The boy before me laughed again, "don't make a scene, Maka!"

I couldn't take it. Their eyes. Their stares. Their judging.

Before the tears bled down my cheeks, I turned away from the crowds, preparing for the despair that was about to consume me whole.

But as I turned to walk away, I was caught between the legs of the toppled chair, my balance shifting before I could could grasp it.

Everything rushing past me in slow motion, but I still couldn't stop it.

Everyone gasped as I hit the concrete, my head scratching against the ground and shedding skin from my face, blood gushing in my hairline.

"Oh my god!" Someone shrieked, "call an ambulance!"

"No!" I struggled to push myself to my feet, "I'm fine!"

Faintly I could see Black*star walking towards me, his smirk blurring before my shaking eyes, and the reflection of the moonlit pool dancing across his stupid face. Like raging fire, in order to resemble the hell he rose from.

"Get the fuck away from me," I stammered, trying to step away from him.

But before I could fully escape his reach, his arm was wrapped beneath my thighs, and used as a form of support to lift me from the ground. My body falling more tired by the second as I struggled to free myself from his hold.

"Put me..." everything was dark. "Down..."

"Don't worry," he sighed. "I'll get her to the hospital."

No.

Put me down.

I tried to fight him, my arms nudging against his frozen chest, and elbowing at his rotten ribs.

A girl asked, "will she be okay?"

"Yeah," Black*star chuckled. "She's just had a little too much to drink."

He's a liar.

"Should we find Kid?"

Yes.

Please do.

I could feel him shake his head. "No need, I'll tell him."

Please, don't take me back there.

They think I'm crazy.

I'm not crazy.

I'm not,

crazy...