LXXXIX
With a slam of the door, Eleven emerges from the closet and strides toward Angela and her friends.
"Angela!"
The girl stops laughing and looks at her with disinterest.
"Uh-oh," she murmurs. "Look who it is."
"She seems upset," her friend comments in a casual tone.
"You ruined my day," Eleven snaps through clenched teeth.
Angela puts her hand over her heart. "Oh, no! Did we embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?"
Eleven doesn't give up: "I want you to say sorry to me."
The girl looks at her as if she were crazy while her friends try to stifle their laughter.
"Or what?" To this, Eleven has no answer. Angela lets out a laugh. "Sorry you can't cry to teacher today. You'll just have to cry to your parents instead. Oh, wait! You're an orphan, right? Can't do that either."
Between laughter and exclamations of "ooooh", Angela and her friends leave her talking to herself.
She tried. She really did. And using her powers is not an option; she can't put herself at risk.
She can't put Henry at risk.
It's like her body moves on its own—her legs start walking with a firm and accelerated step, her right hand taking the skate of an unknown boy who barely manages to let out a soft "hey!" as a protest...
… and her mouth opens without her having made the decision to speak.
"ANGELA!"
The girl turns around.
And the skate crashes cleanly into her face.
Angela's screams and the metallic smell of blood gushing from her open wound overwhelm her.
Suddenly, Will and Mike are at her side.
"Oh… Oh my God," Will mumbles.
"Holy shit, Jane, what did you do?" Mike's tone of disbelief mixed with reproach hurts.
She would like to respond. She would like to explain, but… But the words don't come.
Suddenly, she is eight years old again and has just witnessed a massacre.
Only this time, she is the cause.
When she doesn't respond, Mike asks her again, raising his voice: "What did you do?!"
A tear slides down Eleven's face; at the same time, her survival instinct makes its appearance.
She turns around, leaving Mike and Will behind.
And flees.