Monday came and went, but I didn’t move from my room. I told Mom I was sick, and she didn’t even come inside to see if I was telling the truth. She told me she’d get me some meds after her shift and left a couple of minutes later.
Tuesday whizzed by with my bed and comforter to keep me company.
My cell vibrated with several messages from Hope on Wednesday, but they went unanswered.
Thursday Sal knocked on my door, but I ignored him.
Then Friday came.
Friday was the best day of the week—or it had been before. Before I’d given myself over to someone who hadn’t wanted me.
Mom knocked on my door. I ignored her, and seconds later, her footsteps moved away. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. I hadn’t been expecting her to come into my room. I hadn’t expected her to rip the covers off me. I hadn’t expected her to demand I get up.
“I’ve let you have four days off school,” she said, her voice firm and demanding. “It’s time you push down whatever is going on and get on with things.” I stared up at her, wishing some kind of emotion would bubble up. Anger at being told to push everything down. Sadness because she didn’t even ask what the matter was. But there was nothing. I felt nothing.
“Now, get up.” She pulled on my arm, and I let her drag me out of bed and across the hallway to the bathroom. She switched the shower on as I leaned against the sink, not willing to look in the mirror.
“I’ve got an important business meeting in the next town over today,” she rambled on, testing the water in the shower. “Get showered and dressed, then I’ll drop you off at school.”
She patted my cheek twice, but I didn’t look away from the small crack in one of the floor tiles. The door clicked closed behind her, and I wasn’t sure how long I stood there until I pulled my clothes off and stepped under the spray. The hot water batted against my skin, trying to wash away the pain embedded into me, but it wasn’t successful. Nothing I did made anything appear, I was a shell, and part of me wanted to stay that way. At least then, I wouldn’t have to feel anything.
I brushed my teeth and left my hair wet as I went back into my bedroom. Black jeans and a black T-shirt were the first things my hands landed on, and I pulled them on. My boots were last, and then I grabbed my bag.
Time moved by in chunks, and then I was in the car with Mom as she pulled up in front of the school. I was late, but I didn’t care.
“Sal said he tried to talk to you yesterday.” I unclipped my belt and opened the passenger door. “He was trying to tell you he’s bought us a new house. We’re moving next weekend.” I paused, waiting for the anger or happiness to break free, but…nothing. I nodded and pushed out of the car, slamming the door behind me and then walking up the steps.
I went to the office, got my late slip, and shuffled to my first class. My second class flew by, but I didn’t do any of the work. I stared at the board, thinking and feeling nothing.
Lunch came, and I heard my name being called by Hope, but I ignored her, just like I had all week. But it was Jasmine’s voice that finally broke my trance.
“Ugh, you’re back. I’d hoped you died.” My fingers shook as I put the code into my locker lock. Her friends all laughed from behind us, but I didn’t look at anything other than the chipped paint covering the metal. The lock unclipped, and I pulled on it and grasped it in my hand. “Maybe you could have killed yourself like your dad did.” I
took a step back from my locker. “It’d do us all a favor.”
I turned, and everything slowed down as I looked at her. She was flinging things at me, and even then, I didn’t feel anything. What the hell was wrong with me? The lock bit into the palm of my hand, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I flung it at her face.
The metal connected with her cheek and she squealed. Maybe I should have smiled at the sound, or even been shocked at what I’d done. But I simply stood there, waiting. Waiting for her to retaliate, because maybe if I felt the pain, it’d be better than nothing.
“You stupid bitch!” she screamed, and then gripped my hair, yanking on it. Her palm connected with my face, and then her fist followed. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!” I didn’t move as she slammed my body against the locker and rained her fists on my face. I stayed still as she kneed me in the stomach, only feeling the loss of breath at the last second. My body bowed forward, my instincts kicking in, and then finally, finally, I felt something.
I lifted my head, blood trailing from my lip down my chin, my one eye swollen from her violence, but it was what I needed. Everyone blurred around me, the only thing mattering was Jasmine as she went to hit me again.
I grabbed her wrist, stopping her momentum. “Thank you,” I said, a second before I raised my fist and punched her in the temple, knowing it’d knock her out. She went down, the back of her head smacking off the solid ground.
Silence surrounded us, but I didn’t look away from Jasmine and her still body. She’d given me back the feeling, but now it was evaporating again. It was disappearing before my very eyes. It didn’t come back when someone grabbed my arm and demand I go to the office. I saw the back of Cade’s head as he rushed into the nurse’s office with Jasmine’s sister, and even then, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything or anyone because it was safer that way. It was safer to feel nothing than everything.
Paramedics rushed into the office, and I rolled my eyes. I’d knocked her out, not killed her. She always was a drama queen, but at least she’d given me hope for a few minutes. Hope I wasn’t completely gone. Hope that this was only a phase and not how I’d feel forever.
The office phone rang, footsteps rushing in and out, students’ voices calling from the other side of the wall of windows that separated the hallway from the office. But all I did was keep my gaze glued to an anti-bullying poster attached to the wall. It was ironic. Jasmine had been throwing insults at me for years, but now I’d fought back, and I was the one waiting for the principal to call me into his office.
Justice was never served. I learned that a long time ago.
“Miss Sayer?” a deep voice called, but I didn’t look away from the poster as I stood. I walked over to it, tracing the letters and wondering how many people actually believed the bullshit written on there. The teachers didn’t give a crap if someone was being bullied. All they cared about was putting in their hours and then going home. “Miss Sayer,” the voice repeated, this time more demanding.
I flicked my gaze over to the principal and noted the frown on his face. Of course he was frowning. He was having to actually deal with something. Just like everyone else, he loved to pretend things in this school were fine.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smegly,” I said to him, causing his nostrils to flare. I had nothing to lose, but he wasn’t aware of that. He’d find out soon enough.