Thrust Into His Arms

GWENETH

I had no good expectations when I woke up this morning. But I never could’ve expected the worse I encountered. How yesterday’s sordid event was about to destroy my life completely.

The first thing I notice as I take off my bed shirt is the finger-shaped bruises on my upper arms.

I press down on the tender flesh which is already turning purple, feeling grateful that I hadn’t come out of my room yet, or wore a singlet that would have made it well visible to Dad’s eyes. It is sore and painful, but that is not the worse.

These bruises would fade, but the memories of yesterday would not.

It would forever linger in a corner of my mind labelled as darkest moments in my life. Checking the time on the clock, I realize I’m actually running late and kick my morning routine into high gear.

I got myself ready to go to school despite that being the very last place in this world that I want to be. I had thought about skipping for a while, or maybe just for today but I ended that thought as it would only make me lag in training for the swimming competition. And that is the only positive thing I have going in my life right now. I don’t have any expectations for it as well but who knows?

I just might do great. Sadness and hope mixed together and left a sickening taste in my mouth.

There is a cold, leaden feeling in my belly as I reach school.

My footsteps drag as I make my way into the locker halls like I do every morning. I somehow got the feeling that everyone who is seeing me knows about what Calix did to me. At the time, I had really thought it was my paranoid and disoriented traumatized state of mind speaking. But it turns out I was right. Some students are huddled together and staring at something, then bringing their gaze on me. A leer that is utterly revolting comes from some guys. "Please, let it not be that." I fervently mutter to myself. Panic, verging on hysteria quietly taking hold of me.

It is taking my all to be calmly composed outwardly. That hope and prayer shattered when I see the word "slut" and "shameless whore" boldly written on my locker with red paint.

My body immediately tensed like a piece of dried clay. Hard but fragile. I was still grappling with the fearful possible reality when someone shouts, "There she finally is, our little star." That drew so much attention to me.

"I always knew you were a pretender. But I had absolutely no idea that you were so much of a useless whore!" Another girl said.

"You are quite skilled. Wanna come play with me and my friends later and get that mouth full again?"

I stood transfixed as a group of students started pitching in to corner me against the locker. Some threw paint, others threw eggs.

They dragged at my hair and clothes, calling me all sorts of names. I did not attempt to fight back or resist them. Their actions are barely even getting to me because it could not compare to the feelings and shame that were drowning me inside. I didn’t have to look at myself to know that I was a complete total mess by the time they stopped and had to disperse because of the Dean who came to tell me that I was being called at the principal’s office.

"This is you again, isn’t it?" The principal asked in a tone tinged with hostility. I was surrounded by the disciplinary committee once again. Their judgmental gazes holding so much disdain almost sharp enough to cut through my skin.

Their harsh words spitting out like bullets. I sat rigid before all of them, keeping my eyes on the floor as tears seeped out. "Are you going to claim that it is fake this time?"

"He forced me." I uttered brokenly. I told them before, but they just do not want to hear that. Just like the first time.

Marking Calix out to be a saint that could do no wrong.

My worst fear is now wickedly and painfully unfolding before my eyes. "It doesn’t look like you were forced.

She did it of her own accord and is playing sympathetic to gain pity. We will need to have a meeting with her parents to let them be aware about how she has soiled the school’s image and pursue legal actions."

"I agree, this is a very serious immoral act. The school has been shamed twice now because of her!" One woman pointed accusingly. The weight to her words made my knees threaten to buckle.

My breath halted painfully in my chest.

No fire was as big and burning as one born of humiliation. Somehow, I forced my feet to move and carry me out of the office although it was chaos in my mind.

What was my next course of action?

I uncurled my balled fists, barely noticing the sting that lingered from how hard I had driven my nails into my palms. I’d had everything taken from me despite how hard I had fought against it, clutching fiercely until my hands were bloody, and I’d lost. The negative feelings are so profound and I have no where to channel them out into. I want to disappear. Not just out of this bloody school, but from life also.

What life can I have now? I have been utterly ruined. That video wasn’t posted on the school’s website alone, but also on the main fucking internet. I evaluated the best point and method for that. When I got it, I made my way up the stairwell to head to the rooftop. Walking faster than I have ever done in my whole life. I took in a cleansing breath reaching up there.

The wind brushing softly against my face, but it did nothing to calm the heaviness in my chest. It increased it. The people, the weather and even the environment is so calmly serene and nonchalant at my failing apart.

I looked over at the railings that was built to surround and safeguard the rooftop. The railings are not so high that I can’t climb over them.