Chapter Text
Tentation 1.1
Sophia Hess
PRT Building, Director’s Office
Sunday, January 2nd
Evening
The irritation radiating from the Director’s tired, beady eyes as she stood to her full, unimpressive height behind her wide desk almost burned holes into me when I stomped into the room at her summons and sat down in one of the chairs across her desk from the woman. I wouldn’t admit to anyone that her attention was just a little unsettling right now, but I was also never one to back away from a challenge, so I did my best to look unconcerned with whatever this was and matched the Director’s unblinking gaze.
The old cow looked away first, causing a slight smirk to flash quickly across my face, fast enough that Piggot wouldn’t have noticed, since her glare was momentarily directed up at the ceiling as she sighed in frustration. Deputy Director Renick, who was standing off to the side of Miss Piggy’s desk, seemed to see it, however, and he shook his head, looking at me with mild disapproval.
Then the older woman took her seat and opened her mouth to begin blathering about whatever it was that she had to bitch me out for this time.
“Well? I’m here,” I quickly interrupted, the smugness in my voice apparent even to me. “What did I do this time?”
Piggy’s heated glare became more intense for a few seconds, and one of her eyes twitched a couple of times before she responded through gritted teeth. “I’ve just received yet another report from your fellow Wards about your ongoing poor behavior within the team. Apparently, you’ve been taking every possible chance you can to belittle both Vista and Mongoose, to the extent that all five of the others felt that they needed to file complaints about it. They said that you pull the same bad attitude with rest of them, but seem to focus more of your attention on the two young ones for some reason. This is hurting team morale and cohesion.”
She bore into me with her stare for another few seconds and then let out an even heavier sigh at my sneering expression. “Well? Do you have anything to say about this? Anything at all?”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “They’ll get over it. I’m just letting them know that I’m not here to be friends with either of them. Work is work, my friends are separate. I don’t want to get stuck being friends with either of those runts, anyway. Sure, Vista can be useful with her power at times, and Mongoose will probably be quite the little scrapper someday… years from now, but right now they both stay back in the field and let everyone else do all the heavy lifting. That is, when we’re even allowed to go do anything that matters. So, if they’re too weak to pitch in, I figure I might help toughen ‘em up a little by not wearing kiddie gloves with them like everybody else does, and maybe eventually they’ll learn to pull their weight more. You should be thanking me. I’m doing the team a favor.”
Piggot slammed the heel of her hand onto the polished oak top of her large desk and then pointed at me with a shaking finger, visibly trying to keep emotion out of her response. “Vista is only twelve, and her powers aren’t suited for direct combat. She’s a support oriented cape. Mongoose is only ten years old, barely, and you Wards are really not supposed to do much of the ‘heavy lifting’ in the first place, which is why they are both ordered to stay back. Vista has been on this team for much longer than you, and both of them actually listen to orders. Neither of them flies off the handle at every small inconvenience. They’re both team players; you need to learn to be as well. With the circumstances of your probationary membership on the team, you cannot afford to keep this status of active strife that you’ve been maintaining for months now with the other members of your team.
“If you don’t put in the effort to become a team player, and you keep up with this bad attitude of yours, I will happily get the terms of your deal reversed, or at the very least get you transferred to Anchorage or somewhere equally unpleasant. Separate the wheat from the chaff. As your issue seems to be one of communication, your shifts for the next week will be spent on Console duty, where you will focus on being prompt and courteous to whomever is on patrol. Apparently your outlook whenever your turn comes up still needs a little work, so don’t think of this as a punishment, Sophia. Running the Console is an important part of this job, even if it’s not as exciting as being out in the field. We can’t afford to send you all out on every patrol, and the patrol needs someone playing overwatch who is going to take their safety seriously. You are a member of the team, so it’s vital that you learn to do it in a way that can’t lead to accidents or harm just because you’re upset about being benched for the night. Additionally, I’m ordering mandatory teamwork courses for you to read through and pass on the computer, as well as training exercises tooled to that effect,” she sighed again, her shoulders slumping as her glare died down to disappointment in her tiny pig eyes.
I could feel my eyes narrowing slightly as I fought to keep any expression from my face at her words, my anger directed into the shaking fists that I held tightly in my lap out of sight of the two directors; the pain from my fingernails digging into my palms was keeping me from lashing out with my words, or worse. Member of the team? Yeah, right. Being a probationary member ain’t the same thing, lady. And how dare she judge me? Who does this fat fuck think she is?! She doesn’t know what it’s like out there.
Well… not anymore, anyway. I’ve heard rumors that she used to be some kind of badass at one point, but she’s sure as hell let herself go since then. Fat bitch.
I mean, to be fair, even I’ve gotta admit that she’s steadily been losing weight and getting back into a more healthy shape ever since I joined the team some months back, but even now it still shows that she’d majorly given up on her physique a long time ago, for whatever reason.
“This is serious, Shadow Stalker. You are an abrasive, brash young girl, so it might not seem clear to you yet, but you would be in quite a lot of trouble if the PRT hadn’t offered you this alternative as a way out when we did. As in, life ruining levels of trouble. I implore you to try, seriously try to do better. You have the potential to be a good hero, and as much as I find the need for capes to be distasteful in general, at least I know that you want to be one of the good ones. I can’t see you being one to cut and run from a bad situation… So I really want to believe in you and give you that chance, and it will be a true shame if you waste it. If you’re going to be here anyway, why not do things the right way? Be nice. Or at least act nice if that’s too much for you. Think of how much better the team will function if you can all get along in at least a civil manner.”
I sat with a scowl throughout the moderately pudgy lady’s speech, my emotions quietly raging into a tumultuous torrent somewhere beneath the surface of my chest, but beyond that feeling was the realization that pushing her on this right now would not be a smart choice on my part, so I was just able to rein in my frustration with some effort, however, and answered with an acknowledging nod, biting my tongue before managing a quiet, “Yes, Director.”
Piggy looked me over for another few moments, possibly surprised at my assent, before she glanced at Renick, who tilted his head from side to side and then nodded back. Satisfied, she waved her hand in a gesture toward the door and sent me on my way, down to take over for whoever was manning the Console. It was probably Kid tonight, if I remembered right. At least I can probably get in some more practice piloting the patrol drones too… so I guess the night won’t be a total wash, since those are actually kinda fun.
I walked down the almost sterile office hallway toward the elevator, thinking about the fact that I’m not stupid. As much as it kills me to admit it, the Director had made a few good points, at least when it comes to the likelihood that my team would do better in most regards if I was bringing even more of my A game to the equation.
And if all of this extra training and these exercises will help keep me from getting bitched at quite as often, I suppose that I could suffer through it all just to keep people off my back. I can take the out she offered me and at least act nicer to the others, presuming they stay out of my way and don’t do anything to really piss me off. Just not talking to them when I don’t have to talk to anyone is nicer than telling them to fuck off, right?
Either way, that’s gonna have to be good enough. I meant it when I said I’m not here to make friends… Why waste time on that when I’ve already got friends? Cape time should be spent hauling out the trash that makes this city suck so badly.
But… she’s also right about the flying off the handle thing too. I have… I guess I’d call them anger issues. I’ll be one of the first to admit that. Usually, my anger just helps me go after the fucks I need to take down.
So I’ve got anger. Especially right now; I am not happy. In fact, I’m fucking pissed, and now they’re going to be cracking down on me using all the outlets that I’d normally be able to use, like yelling it off a little bit here and there at the others when they do something idiotic on or off of a mission and need to be informed of what they did.
The steam won’t be able to escape the kettle.
I’m mad at the fact that the Director is probably right about most of the things she said, and can admit that I just don’t like doing things that aren’t my idea, as it’s usually stuff that seems unnecessary or counter-productive to actually accomplishing anything that matters in this garbage dump of a city.
But I also really don’t want to end up losing out on the deal that Emma’s dad had negotiated for me. I’d much rather be stuck here in the Wards and have to deal with that fat bitch yelling at me on occasion than be locked up in juvie over the work I did to clean up the scum on the streets as a vigilante.
Sure, I might’ve gone a little overboard on some of those guys, but it’s not like they weren’t askin’ for it. And if they’d been tougher, then none of ‘em would’ve been so hurt by the time their friends, or the cops, found them and pulled them down.
So yeah, I’m mad at getting called out for things again; it always seems to be me she’s getting after.
Luckily, tomorrow will make up for some of that. For awhile, anyway. Because tomorrow, I have plans. Madison might’ve come up with the initial idea, and to be fair, it had been a pretty good one.
But I’ve just thought of some ways to make it even better.
Fine, I’ll give the Director her due. I can put in more of an effort, prove my worth as the best Ward in the city, probationary or not. But first I have to pull off this last big shebang, if only to make myself feel better about being dressed down like that and having to eat dirt for that fat fuck.
Tomorrow is going to be so fucking funny.
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Winslow High School
Monday, January 3rd
7:53 AM
“Come on, come on! Where is she?” I wondered aloud to my companions as I paced back and forth, my eyes darting about the rapidly emptying halls and tapping the roll of paper towels that I held in my gloved hand against my opposite arm. Madison and Emma stood near me but were watching ways that I wasn’t covering. Even this far from the source, the tainted air that’d permeated the general area was less than pleasant to breathe in, and was just another point of irritability to be stacked on top of my quickly fraying patience. “If she throws away all the effort we went through to set this motherfucker up, I’m gonna be so pissed! This morning has already been such a pain in my ass...”
I mean, I had to show up way before the school even opened or any of the staff had arrived to add the finishing touches and clean up the bugs that’d somehow made their way down the locker hall. I guess the stench of Hebert’s locker had drawn them in, because when I got here there were a bunch of roaches and even ants gathered around on the floor beneath the site we’d chosen to stage the prank. A fair bit of the wet garbage had seeped out from the bottom during the Christmas break too, so I’d had a not insignificant amount of cleaning up to do in order to keep anyone from finding anything amiss before it was time for the show.
And now Hebert is fucking late.
“The bell’s going to ring soon, you guys. We really can’t be late for class… maybe we should just go?” At the sound of trepidation in her voice, I noted that Madison looked nervous as well, as if she were unsure about us going through with the act now that the time for it has finally come.
I smacked her arm with the back of my free hand. “No! Don’t you dare wuss out on me now, Mads! We can’t miss this. The look on her face is gonna be worth anything the teachers might say for us being a few minutes late. I bet she’s going to puke right in the hallway.”
“Hah, no bet! That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Show everyone that even her stomach is weak?” Emma laughed smugly, as Madison took a few steps away from me and rubbed her arm like the wimp that she truly is, trying to hide the flash of fear that crossed her face by pretending to look around for our target. “She’ll probably start crying too. Hey Soph, why did you give me these gloves? What do they have to do with anything? All the gross stuff is already in there…”
I looked at my best friend and rolled my eyes, “Just hold on to them, huh? They might come in handy.”
Dubiously, Emma relented with half a smile and a shrug, ever quick to fold at my word. She’s become quite strong and willful (when it comes to everyone but me), and is probably the only person in my life who really knows me, but it seems like that is one thing she’s choosing to carry on with. Likely out of loyalty for showing her how to survive this harsh world in the first place.
The minutes ticked on and there’s still no sign of my – our – victim. At least not the one in question, anyway. With the first warning bell, the majority of the students have already filtered out of the hallway, heading for their first classes of the day… but there are still a few meandering around who could make up a half decent audience for the spectacle, assuming she shows up soon. All the while everyone else clearing out made it plain for me to see that Hebert still isn’t here.
Gah, what is keeping that fucking loser? I am not playing nice for that old bitch at work without first getting in my one last hurrah…
“Ugh, maybe she just decided not to come today,” Emma rolled her eyes and scowled as she shook her head in annoyance, and then appeared thoughtful for a moment. “You know if she doesn’t show we can always go over to her house and paint stuff on her garage door, or something. Make her sad every time she goes in or out of her house. Her broke-ass dad probably can’t even afford to get new paint to cover it over, so she’d just have to deal for awhile.”
I forced a laugh, getting ever more frustrated that the skinny cunt was keeping me waiting, but I have to admit that idea has some promise too. “Yeah, if this prank goes to waste, I’ll definitely take you up on that. I might break some windows while I’m at it, just for funsies. Hell, maybe we should do that anyway, with her being so inconsiderate of our efforts today.”
“Alright, I’ll pick up some paint after scho– …shhh!” Emma hissed and put her hands on both mine and Madison’s sleeves to pull us back a bit so we wouldn’t be spotted. “There she is! She’s here!”
Peering around the corner, I saw the gangly black-haired nerd come shuffling in from the direction of the stairs, carrying an over-stuffed backpack over both shoulders.
Heh. What a loser; it’s lame to use more than one strap.
“It’s go time!” I crowed triumphantly as we moved off to approach and surround our prey unseen, walling her in before she even knew it so that I could spring my trap.
I can’t wait to see all the reactions we get for this one. I could really use a good laugh.
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Taylor Hebert
At Home
That Morning
I thought about how much fun most of the Christmas break had unexpectedly turned out to be while I finished eating the ham and cheese omelet and toast that I’d made myself for breakfast. Dad and I actually spent quite a bit of time engaging with each other for once, more than just the usual awkward small talk, I mean. We had some real conversations and watched shows, and we even went on a frivolous shopping trip rather than only doing the usual necessary run to the store for a grocery list that we typically stuck to.
We didn’t end up buying much, but still… just walking around and looking in the stores was fun.
I really hope this behavior becomes the default thing for him again… He might still not be quite his old self, but interactions between us haven’t felt nearly as oppressive and suffocating as they generally have since Mom died. It’s been far too long since the Heberts have been a real family, the way that we used to be, anyway, but this Christmas break it felt like we’d started down the road to becoming one again.
Whatever had caused him to start pulling his way out from under that heavy shell of despondency… oh who am I kidding, Mom always loved this time of year, so that had probably at least helped him want to celebrate with me in a way she’d be proud of.
Though, it might also be because I finally went off on him on the second day after school had ended for the holidays, when the silence between us during dinner just got to be way too much, too stifling, and the contrite glances simply too hard to keep ignoring. Normally, I would’ve never let myself be so free with my emotions with someone who’d felt like only a little more than a stranger at the time, but something about that night had driven off my waning patience and I just snapped.
I’d yelled, for I don’t know how long, until my throat had felt raw, burning tears and snot flowing freely down my face despite my own wishes to the contrary and several tissues used to try and prevent the latter from happening, and I let him know just what his seemingly apathetic approach to parenting has been doing to me, and how much I’d really needed him after Mom had died, and that, though he had failed me, I understood his pain and had wanted to give him his space to grieve. But I also impressed upon him how much I missed him and need his renewed support.
And, apparently, he’d listened.
But hell, who knows? Maybe none of that had actually done the trick and he was just ready to start being more like his old self again after coping with the trauma for so long.
In the end, it doesn’t matter why he’s been putting in more effort for me again, just that he has been. Because, honestly? I really do need him. If I even just have Dad back again, really have him in my corner, then maybe I can at least get through whatever those bitches decide to put me through at school from now on.
Although… they haven’t really been doing anything too bad to me for awhile, so maybe they’ve finally gotten bored and will just keep leaving me alone? I hope…?
They have done something like this before, though, where they allowed a lull in their cruelties, and then they just came back later with something even worse than anything else they’d done before that point. As if they were playing some kind of sick game of escalation with me. The only difference, which is what’s throwing me off now, is that this time has been by far the longest duration that nothing’s been done aside from a few passing insults from their hangers-on in the halls and more of the usual vicious emails, and those couldn’t have all come from the Trio even during the worst of times, so it might not even have been them who sent any of them…
Guess I’ll just have to keep my fingers crossed and see how it goes. If this respite keeps up and they actually let me focus on classes again, maybe my grades for this new semester won’t be the absolute horse-shit they’ve been dropping to lately…
The slight creak of the cheap linoleum kitchen flooring drew me out of my introspection as Dad came back into the room from getting the rest of his work things ready to go, and hesitated for only a moment before he leaned down and kissed the top of my head and patted my shoulder with one of his strong, calloused hands accompanied only by some slight awkwardness in the atmosphere. “Well, I have to get going now, Taylor. I really should have been gone five minutes ago. There’s a meeting going on over the phone this morning about a possible new contract for us to do some of the infrastructure maintenance in and around the city for the rest of the winter season. I’ve been told the Public Works department is a little understaffed right now, so the Association is hoping to try to supplement them with this deal. We could really use the work.”
As he started walking away, I looked up at him with a smile that was only partially forced, ever worried when he brought up the uncertain state of his job or the finances, and answered him as I got to my feet. “Hey, that’s good news, Dad. I’m sure you’ll convince ‘em to go with you guys! …Umm, hey, Dad? I just… I wanted to thank you before you go. I was just thinking about it, and I really, uh, I had a nice time hanging out with you over the holidays. It was a lot of fun to just do stuff together again. You think we can maybe watch a movie tonight, or something?”
Dad stared at me in blank surprise for half a second before his own face broke out in a pleasant smile, “Absolutely, Taylor. You’re right, we’ll have to do things like that more often again.” He came back over and gave me a heartfelt hug, rocking me side to side for just a moment, an embrace which I returned tightly, blinking away a few tears that I felt trying to free themselves of their eyelash prison. “Y’know, I still can’t apologize enough to you for not being there for you much since… since your mother passed. You were right, I’ve been a real bum. When you blew up at me, you made me realize just how bad I’ve let things get, and that your mother would be royally pissed at me for the way I’ve been wallowing over her and focusing on work instead of making sure you felt the love and support you needed. I’m working on it, but things are gonna be more like they used to be from now on, Tay. I promise. Hey, why don’t I pick something up for dinner on my way home, we can eat while we watch the flick. Pick out a good movie, huh?”
His words sent a long absent yet still familiar warmth shooting through me from head to toes, a feeling that had been all too normal not all that long ago yet feels almost alien now, and my eyes started watering again, but this time in the good way. God, I’ve missed this. For almost the last two years or so he’d barely even acknowledged me as he threw himself into the responsibilities of his job, or at least it had seemed that way. Dad’s hugs have always been the best. He isn’t some overly muscled, burly guy, but he’s still strong, despite his tall, skinny frame, and he’s my dad. I felt very safe for those few moments being held in his arms.
Releasing him at the same time he let go of me, I took my plate and fork to the sink and rinsed them, turning my head to watch Dad leave the room as he began heading for the front door. “That sounds great! I’ll choose one of our favorites. Bye Dad, love you! I’ll see you when you get home from work, alright? You’ll have to tell me how things go with that call!” I yelled after him as he speed-walked to go out to his small pickup.
“Will do! Goodbye, Taylor. I love you too! You have a good first day back to school, okay?” he yelled back and the door clicked shut right after him.
“I will surely try…” I muttered darkly under my breath, shedding the overly positive attitude I’d been forcing as I ran up the stairs to my room to grab the rest of the things I’ll need before leaving. Stepping in, I hefted my backpack up off the floor in the corner where it had sat for the past three weeks, and took up the bit of assigned homework that I’d done during the break off of my desk and crammed it into my already overstuffed bag, careful as I could be to not tear any of the pages. After zipping the bag up, I turned to my closet to grab some camouflage for the day in the form of my warmest hoodie, which happens to be brown, and threw it on over the long-sleeved dark gray shirt I’d already been wearing. When you can’t afford a good winter coat, layers work well enough as a short-term substitute.
I paused for a moment to admire the new poster that was pinned to the wall beside my closet doors, a sort of joke present Dad had gotten me for Christmas after an offhand comment he heard me grumble about how it must be a genetic requirement for all the members of New Wave to be so pretty before they could be accepted onto their team, family or not.
Even as hopeless as I am in multiple areas, I still appreciate some eye candy just like anyone else does, and the badass girls of New Wave all taking up action poses on my wall somehow helps a little bit to ease the feeling of dread that has been closing in worse on me as the winter break grew closer to today, the day that school starts back up again.
Not to mention that it means a lot more because Dad had been the one to give it to me. It proves he actually pays attention to what I say to him, even inconsequential, passing remarks like that one had been. I put a hand to the poster and imagined borrowing strength from the three people on it for a moment, and then let out a resigned sigh before turning away and heaving my filled-to-capacity bag up to put my arms through the straps and let my shoulders carry the weight, pulling the door to my room closed behind me as I went down the stairs to leave for school.
Heading out the front door into the crisp winter morning air, I locked up and made a bee-line hustle for the nearby bus stop. ‘Have a good day at school,’ he says. I sure hope so, though I’m not sure if I should put too much stock in the possibility. ‘Please really be bored of me, please really be bored of me, please really be bored of me…’ kept repeating through my head, and as I walked, I mentally prepared myself for whatever the day was going to throw my way.
Almost to my stop, I could see the bus, a few minutes earlier than usual, just pulling away from the corner.
“Hey! Wait!” I yelled hoarsely, my breath visible in the cold morning air as I frantically waved my arms to get the driver’s attention while trying to run after the departing transport with my heavy textbook-laden backpack flopping around uncomfortably against my back with each stride. I made eye contact with the smirking driver. I know he saw me. The bus did not stop. My shoulders slumped and I let out a sigh that was thick with emotion as I stared after it. “What the fuck?”
Great. I guess I’m walking to school. Through the slurry of puddles and yet unmelted snow from last night covering many of the walks and the sides of the street. And I’ll have to hurry to get there on time. At least if they make fun of me for being smelly today, it might actually be true for once… Off to a great start already. But if this is as bad as the day gets, I guess I can deal with walking to school. Not like I can’t use some exercise.
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The sound of my tennis shoes slapping against the wet ground echoed off the front wall of the school as I hurried up the steps and through the main entryway of Winslow High, wiping the moisture from my shoes onto the rug by the door as well as I could. Glancing at a large wall clock in the entry hall, I saw that I was already late for the first bell, but while I made my way through them, I continuously scanned around the halls to keep an eye out for any sign of my three primary tormentors.
There were hardly any other students to be seen who haven’t yet gone to class, most everyone having already vacated the halls by now in favor of their homerooms, but the attention I am getting from some of the few other kids that I passed is somewhat worrisome. I recognize a couple of them as being among some of the Trio’s many outliers who would presumably text them to report back on my movements or help them out in other small ways, and these met my gaze before quickly looking away. The expressions they blatantly wore on their faces were almost conflicted, like they knew something was going on but were unsure of what to do about it...
Well, shit... What now? If even they seem to feel kind of guilty or uncertain about whatever might be going on, it’s gotta be pretty bad, right?
Climbing up the stairs I edged past the two much lesser bullies, all too aware of their eyes glued to me as I passed, as if they were anticipating a tragic car wreck.
Damnit… Of course hoping the Trio would just leave me alone now is too much to ask for, isn’t it? I’d tempted Murphy… and now my offense against that most fundamental of laws is due its comeuppance.
They kept their distance from me as I got to the next floor and, looking up and down the hall I couldn’t see Emma or her two flunkies, so I took the risk and headed for my locker hall to put away the books that I wouldn’t need until later in the day, resigned to the fact that I’ll find out sooner or later if there’s actually anything going on.
Nearing my destination, I began to smell something gross, like someone had left the lid off of a fast food restaurant’s dumpster that was uncovered in the sun for a week, except worse.
And goody, it was getting stronger the closer I stepped toward where my personal locker is located. A large garbage can that’s normally a ways down the hall from here had been placed right by the section of lockers mine is a part of, but I’m too suspicious, or maybe paranoid, to believe that it’s the true source of that particular stench, even if that smell seems to be coming from the mess of trash at the bottom of the can as well.
But no, it had more than likely been placed here as an obvious explanation for the smell, so that nobody would look for an answer any deeper than the surface. Yeah, this has to be whatever they’d arranged for me, something with my locker. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve gotten in.
Oh joy, go fucking figure.
My shoulders slumped, and I covered my nose with one hand as I completed my approach and stood in front of my locker for a few moments, debating whether or not I should cut my losses by simply turning around right now to go straight back home, or just keep everything in my backpack for the day and head to my homeroom instead.
It’s not like I haven’t done that quite a few times before for one reason or another anyway, usually out of necessity.
My bag really is pretty heavy though, and I really don’t want to have to carry everything in it with me all day if I don’t absolutely need to, so I took it off and set it down on the floor beside me for a moment while I made up my mind. Another part of me really couldn’t move past the curiosity of seeing the new creative heights they’ve pushed themselves towards for my benefit this time.
Despite the internal arguments, I felt that part winning out, so I finally stepped forward and spun in my locker combination, pausing for only a brief moment before I lifted the release and pulled the door open.
Immediately, the scent got so much worse, quite probably the foulest, most pungent thing I’ve ever smelled, and right away… stuff started oozing and roiling out onto the floor, forcing me to jump back to avoid it getting on my shoes. I recognized what was most likely long-rotten cafeteria garbage mixed in with the contents of what has to be just about every feminine waste bin from the whole school. All of it was quite literally crawling with maggots and other bugs.
I bent over and started retching up my breakfast from the combination of the horrid smell and the knowledge of what was causing it; the dismay that Emma would really stoop so low as to pull something like this, and the realization that they aren’t ever going to stop doing this kind of shit to me and just let me live my life.
I was somewhat aware of the very sporadic laughter and slow-clapping that broke out from a couple of the handful of people who’d actually still been around to witness me upchuck on myself and on the floor before I wiped a sleeve against my mouth and turned away to head for a bathroom to go throw up some more and then clean myself off, only to feel a powerful hand grab me by the hair and the fingers of another dig into my shoulder from behind and yank me violently backward about a foot before roughly pushing and guiding me to move toward the mess.
Panic shot through me and I planted my feet and leaned back as hard as I could, trying to awkwardly pry their grip from my hair so that I could flee with one arm, while wildly swinging my other arm back at whoever had me held in their grasp. I surprised myself when I felt my elbow actually connect with someone’s ribcage, which knocked some of the wind from my attacker.
With a snarl of indignant protest from whoever was maintaining their iron hold on me despite my elbow, I was abruptly shuffled forcefully forward to bang right into the closed door of the locker next to mine, my head being drawn back to slam twice against the steel with efficient, brutal strength that caused me to weakly cry out for my assailant to let go, but that sound was washed away by the enraged cussing coming from them. I was fairly certain even through the concussed haze brought on after the second time my head had been used as a door knocker that I recognize the voice, but placing that right now was a little beyond my dazed capabilities. I felt a knee fly up hard to hit into my backside, and then my body was violently wrenched to the right, over toward my own locker.
I tried yet again to dizzily stumble away from their grip, but I’m too stunned from the blows, and the burning pain in my scalp from being tossed and yanked around by my hair was only contributing to my disorientation. Yet still, I desperately tried to push back, throwing my arms out to each side, trying to keep from being forcibly entered into the almost chest-high filth that I had seen waiting there for me, needing to escape this trap before it was fully sprung.
The aggressor let me go for a split second, but then rammed into me with what has to have been a full on body check before I could even think about trying to bolt away from the scene, abruptly ending the tenuous safety that my arms being braced against the biting steel edge of the locker doorframe had offered, only my layers of sleeves from my shirt and hoodie keeping the metal from cutting into my arms or scraping my skin as they finally succeeded in pushing me into the cramped cavity already inhabited by the swampy mess of trash.
The choices at my disposal were to either contort myself to fit into the tight space, or allow myself to break when I was shoved so vigorously against it. I immediately tried falling backward out of the squelching, fetid new hell I had found myself in, but I felt one hand push against my back and another grab hold of my hair again and push in to bounce my head against the rear wall of the locker, just as hard as they’d done before.
I was barely cognizant of my forehead being ripped into by angry, unmoving steel protrusions that were somehow set in place against the wall, the eruption of bouncing specks of light bursting across my vision being drowned out in turn by what felt like an instantaneous fountain of hot blood now coursing down my face, my sluggish reactions letting me only slowly clench my eyelids tight against the stinging flow.
What felt like a flurry of fists rained down into the locker upon my sides and my back as I hunched up as much as I could in a bid to protect my vitals; I have no doubt even now that some of my ribs had just been broken, based on the weird pressure and floating pain that immediately followed the series of quick impacts.
My attacker let up on me for a few seconds, just long enough for me to start hoping this was all over, that they’d made their point, but then came what must have been a heavy kick right into the center of my back, knocking me forward once more into the rear of my locker, this time smashing and likely breaking my nose, considering the sudden, crunching agony in my face and the increase to the stream of blood running down over my lips.
Feeling things fall down my face and figuring out right away what the pieces were from, I knew my now broken glasses were likely all that had stood in the way of putting out an eye on whatever had torn up my forehead before. And because of the angle my right arm had been pinned up at between me and the locker wall before that kick, and the sudden lightning-strike of pain that was now shooting through me at any slight movement, I can only guess that my collarbone had just been broken.
Some part of my mind vaguely registered hearing calls of “Hey, Soph, that’s enough!” and “C’mon, the prank’s over!” from the unmistakable sound of Emma’s voice even in my impact addled thoughts, but whoever’s been beating on me must not have heard, as right after that my left thigh exploded in fiery trauma from what I assume was another heavy, targeted blow from a booted foot.
I collapsed to my right knee as much as the given space allowed me to do, which wasn’t very far, dropping into the over three foot high rancid mire that filled my locker. Even in my completely pained confusion I was somehow able to shift much of my weight onto my good leg, even though any movement on my part was accompanied with agony due to all of my broken bones.
I felt another few blows from her fists connect with my upper back right near the base of my neck, and another one landed straight into the back of my skull, again bouncing my head forcefully into the lower point of the back wall of the locker, which was made even worse as my right eye rebounded against one of those sharp protrusions in a bursting, indescribable pain that I no longer had the coherence to put thought to, new fluids gushing forth to mix with the mess of runny blood that my face had already become. A cry tore its way from my throat then, rough enough to hurt, but that quickly trailed off into nothingness as my concussed, adrenaline fueled, trauma shocked mind began trying to process everything that someone had just chosen to do to me.
I then felt the door slam against my back and could feel it being pushed on in order to force me in far enough that they’d be able to close it all the way.
Almost all light was now gone from my view, my remaining eye able to blink through the blood running down my face to see only a small amount coming in through the narrow slats at the top of the door. I was now trapped within the stink and the filth, but I’m far too out of it at this point, from way too many sources of distraction and physical pain to really react aside from weakly groaning as I struggled not to choke on the rancid, insufficient air and shakily curled in on myself as much as the steel walls allowed for some kind of instinctual, fetal protection from the absolute shock of the sudden assault.
Somehow, I’d remained conscious through all of that pain, even though it was probably all over within thirty seconds or so of starting. But what must have only been a minute or two at most after the door had been shut and hearing the muffled voices of whoever was still outside, all ignoring my desperate, agonizingly murmured pleas for help, I was vaguely aware of more garbage somehow falling from the ceiling of my locker and down onto me, before my adrenaline, that had already been seeping out of me and the unbearably excruciating trauma finally caught up with my tolerance threshold.
I succumbed, my vision fading to stars and flashing colors and massive soaring… somethings that seemed to be dancing and communicating with each other and ejecting pieces of themselves as they rapidly approached a familiar planet.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Sophia Hess
A Minute Before
I circled in from the opposite hallway, Emma and Madison more or less flanking me as we snuck up behind Taylor, awaiting her reaction. I was practically giddy with anticipation, like a hungry lioness sneaking up on a lamed gazelle for the kill, excited to show off to my friends the brilliant alterations to our grand plan that I had snuck into the school early this morning to make.
Putting those finishing touches in had resulted in a genius bit of camouflage when I had to open the door in order to add them. Some of the shit fell out, so I’d had to clean it up, and throwing it all away into a trash can I’d dragged over gave people a false source of the bad smell. Now, I was going to push Hebert into the locker, and give her a chance to stew in the waste that she belonged in for at least a little while.
Honestly, she should really be thanking me for showing her where her rightful place is. I’d brought her home. Fuck, it’s probably nicer in there than her actual house, based on what Emma’s told me of the place.
When Taylor bent over and started puking her guts all over her shoes and the floor, I moved in for the grand finale and grabbed her by the shoulder and her stupid hair just as she started trying to run away from her shame, and began directing her to her new place of residence. The skinny bitch surprised me by stopping us both dead in our tracks with far more strength than I would’ve given her credit for and pushed back hard against me.
I don’t know if it was due to being surprised or if she had finally snapped, but Hebert was trying to make a stand, her hand grasping at the fingers that I’d clutched around her hair, which kept me from seeing when she tossed the elbow of her other arm solidly back into my diaphragm, knocking much of the breath from my lungs.
‘Fuck that noise… You’re gonna fight back now, bitch?!’ My rage flew through the goddamned roof at the unexpected jolt of discomfort that Hebert’s admittedly decent elbow strike had delivered. ‘You aren’t ruining my fucking fun now, you smelly twig!’
Fuckin’ everyone is always telling me what I can and can’t goddamn do... I’ll show you teamwork, you old whore. Damn Piggass and her ultimatums, thinking she needs to push her authority all over me!
If Hebert had just gone along with our pranks earlier, or if she’d fought back against me back then, she’d probably be one of us by now, like Ems had hoped for. A part of my team, out of costume, anyway. But she’s only ever shown herself to be a weak, sniveling victim, either cowering in a corner while tearing up like a little baby, trying to look anywhere but at us, or she’s running away from us when we can’t quite pin her in, so this is what she deserves! Maybe she’ll finally learn her lesson and just stay the hell home after all this, realize that she’s persona non grata around these parts. Ha, or maybe she’ll go off herself and become somebody else’s problem!
Or… or maybe she’ll actually get stronger from this, but I really fuckin’ doubt it. She’s just not built to survive hardship.
I bounced her stupid head against the lockers a couple of times to stun her into compliance, and then managed to shoulder-slam the bitch into the confines of her own locker after she struggled at the entrance for a few seconds. Her tall, skinny frame fit in just well enough that I was sure I could shut the door like I’d planned, but the bottomless fury I was feeling right now took the decision out of my hands for the moment. I needed to take my frustrations out a little more on this damn nobody who’d had the gall to fight back when she should well by now know that she is lesser than me and my friends.
Throwing a half dozen of my hardest, fastest punches in after the pathetic little slut, I was going to call it good, but the bitch had the nerve to keep trying to back her way out of her locker and escape her fate, spilling out even more of the stuff that I’d have to clean up again before I could wash my hands of this mess and get to class.
That irritated the shit out of me, so I threw a heavy kick into her back, which tossed her into the back wall of the locker again. And to teach her a lasting lesson, I aimed another kick where I knew it would really hurt her, hearing a satisfying snap under the blow from my foot.
Huh. She was being much quieter than I would have thought she’d be with all this selfless personal attention I was giving her… Hebert’s pitifully soft cries of gurgling anguish and pleas for me to stop weren’t loud enough to carry far beyond the immediate area around her new prison.
‘Maybe… maybe I’d fucked up her head with those hard slams against the metal? Had I made her simple? I-No… it doesn’t matter. I won, and Hebert lost. I’m strong, and she’s weak. I’m a survivor, and she’s shown herself to be just another fucking victim!’ Those words filled my head in the midst of my rage-fueled adrenaline rush, that fact being all that truly meant anything to me in the end.
After I tossed a few more victorious strikes in to inflict as much pain on the embodiment of weakness that is Hebert before she goes and decides to never come back to Winslow again and deprives me of ever having another opportunity, I slammed the door on the girl who was likely unconscious by this point, who I’m sure I’ve thoroughly humiliated with her crushing defeat at my hands, and once I was able to push it all the way shut I turned the combination wheel, locking her in.
Eh, she’ll either get over it and accept her status at the bottom of the pile, or she won’t. Either way, she’s not likely to be my problem anymore, after today.
Turning around, breathing heavily in exhilaration and fatigue with what I feel I could only describe as a look of unbridled glee stretching across my face, I spotted the five students who had remained to watch the show in the now deathly quiet hall, all of them staring at me in shock and fear and awe.
A tingling shiver of excitement ran down my spine and mixed with the brutal anger that was still in the process of slipping away from me. The final bell rang right then, and I finished my slow turn, my enthused, yet admittedly crazy smile no longer reaching my eyes as I glower back at everyone.
“Well? What the fuck are you all looking at? Fucking get to class, you rejects! Unless you’d like to join her in there? I’m sure I could squeeze another couple of you in…” I growled out, cracking my knuckles as I took a menacing step toward them. “Say anything to anyone and you’re dead! I know who all of you are. You don’t wanna be next, do you?!”
Almost everyone, including a visibly shaking Madison, who’d flinched as if my words had physically struck her and was looking at me strangely, almost as if she was about to start crying, her blue eyes wide like a deer caught unawares, all turned and ran away as fast as they could, leaving me feeling an odd mixture of more triumph at their reactions, as well as renewing my anger at my wuss of a friend.
My heart was still pounding hard, and I could actively feel every beat forcing the blood to course through my veins. That little pussy… she might need some toughening up sometime soon too. I honestly don’t know how much better it will stick with her than with Hebert though, if it comes to that. She’s always been the hopeless tagalong, kept around only for her sometimes-clever ideas and her social intuition.
Unable to contain the flurry of intense emotion that had come with this victory, I growled a final warning after my four departing, less than valorous, peers, “That’s right! Nobody better even think of trying to take me on! You’ll all lose just as badly as she just did!”
Emma slowly stepped up beside me as I bent down in front of the locker to pick up the escaped goopy trash with my gloved hands, her breath coming out a little shakily. “Umm, Soph? That… that wasn’t quite what we’d talked about… are you… are you sure you didn’t go a little t-too far with her? I think you really hu-hurt her. Taylor–She’s not gonna, um… die in there, is she?”
My attention shifted and my eyes sharply snapped up to meet my best friend’s, still glaring, feeling only a small trace of the near manic grin still present as she too flinched back a little under the look I was giving her. She covered up her reaction quickly, though. “I go as far as I’m pushed. And I made the plan better. It’s way funnier now! Also, I wouldn’t have had to go so rough on the ugly little whore if she hadn’t fought back in the first place. The bitch thought she could beat me? Me?! No, she’ll be fine. Just a little dinged up…”
Emma looked startled and a bit confused, shaking her head slightly as her face turned a bit red. “Sophia, no… I… I thought… I thought that all of this was so that she would finally fight back? Isn’t that a good thing? Her fighting back should prove to you that she’s strong…”
“Oh, can it, Emma! That’s just a lie you’ve been telling yourself, and if it’s that obvious even to me, then all it proves is that you’re a bad liar. Besides, that loser has been weak for way too long, and at this point I don’t think that she even can become strong anymore. Just throwing an elbow, one time, for the coward’s goal of being able to run away from the threat isn’t enough to change that. And she made me mad. That’s what happens when someone makes me mad. Plus, if she were to stick around us, after everything we’ve put her through, then that would just prove how easily we were able to beat her into that kind of submission, and her weakness would start to rub off on all of us. You don’t want to be weak again, do you, Survivor?” I paused for a few moments, still holding my friend’s gaze with a smirk that felt a bit cruel, even to me, though I was still too focused on cleaning up the mess that Hebert had made to do anything to censor myself.
“Anyway, are you going to glove up and help me clean up all this evidence or are you just going to stand there getting soft? I want to see just how long we can keep that hideous cow stuck in there, and if nobody sees any of her throw up or this mess out here, they won’t go letting her out too early in the day, even with the smell in this hall. That’s what the garbage can is for,” I felt a wicked grin cross my face as I announced the brilliant climax of my change to the prank. “Really, she should just go ahead and die in there and save us the trouble of driving her to do it herself later. You hear that, Hebert? You have my permission to drop dead!” I stage-whispered at the locker, then broke into the erratic laughter of someone coming off of a satisfying adrenaline high.
Emma quietly gasped, her eyes still on mine and searching, looking even more confused before moving to look at the floor until she started to nod with broken surety. She drew the gloves I had given her from her pocket and pulled them on, kneeling down to grab up more of the muck littering the floor with me. A minute later we had collected all of it with our hands and mopped up Hebert’s puke and any of the escaped wet stuff with the paper towels I’d dropped earlier when I had grabbed the girl.
Most of it went into the trash can, but I took up the rest of the pile, and after quickly glancing up and down the hall to be sure nobody was watching, made my hands go into my shadow state with all the guck and deposited it back into the locker, making sure to drop it in near the top so that it would land on Taylor’s head and shoulders and hopefully ruin her clothes even worse, or make her have to get a haircut or something.
As I withdrew my hands from the locker door, a sudden wave of dizziness came over me and I fell to the floor, seeing some kind of dancing lights floating across my blackened vision, as if I’d locked my knees and passed out for an untold, yet likely fairly brief, period of time. I had the strangest feeling that I was forgetting something significant, even though I’d already just accomplished everything important that I’d set out to do today.
“Soph, are you alright?” There was concern evident in Emma’s voice as she held her unsteady hands out to help me up what felt like mere seconds later. “You–you blacked out.” The renewed muted sounds from the locker signaled that Taylor had apparently regained consciousness, or maybe found something of a backbone, and was now mewling very weakly, complaining in a way that made it obvious that she was in quite a lot of pain, and I heard her calling out for Emma specifically to please help her and to be let out.
And Emma was looking over at the locker as if she were actually considering doing so.
I quickly grabbed her offered hand and shook my head as I regained my feet, talking loud enough to cover Hebert’s squalling pleas so I could harden my friend’s resolve, “Yeah, fuck. Must be the adrenaline leaving my system or something. Just kind of lost it for a moment there. Ahh, yeah... I’m just glad to get some of that excess rage out on a good punching bag like Hebert. Ever since that stupid old bitch yelled at me last night I’ve had all this tension built up, and I’ve really needed to hit something. That’s part of why I changed Madison’s stupid locker plan. If I’m gonna be kept off the streets for who knows how long, I needed to get some of that stress out. So I came in early and fixed things up to pull this off. That fucking weakling just had to go and make things worse for herself by trying to fight back instead of just going where she should like a good little sheep. She’d probably have just been a little uncomfortable for awhile. But after what she pulled? She can sleep it off for a class or two before someone lets her out. So… yeah, I’m doing alright, Ems. Hey, grab Hebert’s backpack. We can toss it somewhere on our way to class.”
I thought of just chucking it in the garbage can, but if someone saw a fully loaded backpack in there, it might make them suspicious. It’ll be smarter to toss it away where it won’t have a chance of cutting my fun short.
“I…yeah… yeah, okay,” Emma responded, but I saw her again glance back with an expression that I couldn’t quite read at the once more silent locker as we walked away from our most recent proof that we’re strong and Hebert is fucking weak.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Greg Veder
As Emma Barnes helped pull Sophia Hess, no… Shadow Stalker, up to her feet, I quietly, and with almost mind-numbing levels of fear, hid just around the corner, clinging with my back against the wall as I kept my currently recording phone aimed right at them, trying to keep both my arm from shaking too badly to catch the scene unfolding before me and my breath from being loud enough that they hear me hiding here.
Shadow Stalker… a hero. A hero? If she’s willing to do this to Taylor, then she’d do at least as much to me if she knew I was recording her in the act, and even though I’ve been watching those learn-at-home karate videos for months now and finally joined an actual dojo, that wouldn’t help me fight a girl. Doing that would just feel too wrong, and she’d probably kick my ass anyway, with how easily I’d just seen the former vigilante dismantle Taylor.
I was trying to at least pick up the audio if I couldn’t hold the angle that would keep the picture on-screen, and then, when I heard the two finally leaving to go to class, I ran as quietly as I could down the side hallway I’d been recording from.
‘Oh, god. I can’t let them see me… What do I do with this now? I just wanted to have evidence to help Taylor, to finally be able to make Blackwell actually do something and stop allowing this to go on, but now this? What the hell?’
I’ve read that it’s illegal to publicly reveal a Ward’s civilian identity, so can I even do anything with this now? Shit… maybe I’ll have to keep quiet about the recording for the moment so that when I do anything with it Shadow Stalker won’t know who did it? Part of me still really wants to post it to PHO, but that would almost surely end badly for me… maybe I should bring it straight to the PRT building?
Yeah. I bet they’ll be surprised to see one of their Wards acting this way.
And maybe they’ll give me a reward or something.
‘Or… maybe you shouldn’t be such a selfish prick. Why the hell did your mind go right away to thoughts of receiving a reward? How about just do the right thing, Greg, you damned fool…’
As I continued down the hallway, my racing heartbeat finally slowing down, and then made my way to my own first class that I was now late for, my mind was completely focused on just what exactly I should say when I brought that file in to help Taylor and get Shadow Stalker disciplined appropriately. Yet, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that I was forgetting to do something important.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Taylor Hebert
An Undetermined Time Later
Agonizingly, I drifted back to feverish consciousness and blearily forced my left eye to open as well as it could, the other one being swollen, burning, and crusted over and in waves of far too much pain to even think about trying to find out if it still even worked, and with that act came a gradual awareness of what had happened earlier to put me where I now found myself.
Along with that, all of the pain came barreling back down on me like a freight train, no longer dulled by the mix of shock and adrenaline that I’d been feeling while the attack was happening, and now I was left to try to take stock of my situation.
Sluggishly going over something of a checklist on the current condition of my body, I realize that while it aches to do so, my lungs seem to be capable of haltingly pulling in just enough air coming in through the slats near the top of the door, as vomit-inducingly foul as the available supply happens to be that I’m not going to suffocate as long as I stay calm. I also realize that I can’t see anything. I think that I hear what sounds like lots of distant, echoing pops, and maybe thunder, or fireworks, but that isn’t relevant to my focus right now.
I’m in so much pain, a not insignificant part of which is that I’ve been putting quite a bit of my weight on a leg that is apparently very much broken and no longer up to the task of doing that for what must’ve been at least twelve hours based on the fact that there’s no light filtering in through the slats in the locker where outside light shining through the windows should have been visible in my locker hall if there was any sunlight still out to do so.
My body’s contorted into a really awkward position within the walls of my vile confinement, so once I gathered the will to do so, I held my breath against the stab of pain and tried shifting my right ankle through the goop beneath me and over to the left wall as I leaned back against the door and onto my right leg as well as I could, making a little more room for that limb to be able to take more of the weight off of my broken left one. The new position proved to be more comfortable, for a given definition of comfortable, at least once the ‘pins and needles’ feeling of moving a limb that had been sitting in one position for so long had faded, anyway. My forehead felt like it had recently been on fire, even if I hazily recognized that it’d probably been cut up by something instead of being burned.
The thick, putrid smells alone are something horrendous, much worse now in this small space than they’d been when I first opened the locker and was standing out in the hall, and that I came to that conclusion even after I’ve been in here long enough for my sense of smell to get somewhat used to breathing in these garbage particles, I feel that should say something significant about just how bad it smells.
To make things worse, I’m pretty sure I lost control of at least my bladder at some point during the time I’ve been stuck in here, but there’s a solid chance I’d voided my bowels as well. It’s exceedingly hard to tell with how saturated my clothes have become from the pile of wet trash I’ve been squatting within since being shoved in here.
My one consolation on that likelihood is that I’d been beaten ‘til I fell unconscious and had no way to prevent it from happening at the time.
And I could feel moving things? Oh… the maggots and those other bugs I’d seen before.
They’re crawling through the guck all over and around me, even getting under my clothes. Some have even made it all the way up onto my face, likely drawn by all of the blood that had run down and dried there, and even if I had the energy to, I lack the room to move and try to swipe them away. My arms are trapped down between the walls of the locker and my torso, both bent awkwardly up at the elbows, but even if I could only reach my fingertips up to my chin, the right side of my collarbone being plainly broken made lightning rend through the nerves of my upper body at any small movement, and every instance of this happening saps my reserves and kills any will to even try banging on the walls, for whatever good that would do in a probably empty school.
Twice I managed to bite down on creepy crawlies that I was able to catch when they scurried across my lips, spitting them out as soon as they were dead. The taste was indescribably bad, because they’d been crawling through this garbage for who knows how many days, which caused even more ineffectual dry heaves to come my way that in turn set off the intense jolt of pain from my collarbone again. I’d long since run out of anything to actually purge, which I’m mostly thankful for, but even going through the simple motion of trying to puke still hurts like a sonuvabitch.
There are these little pinpricks pushing into my arms and legs, and down my front and sides with my every involuntary, twitching movement. I can’t tell for sure what’s causing that, but it hurts, and is very insistently, solidly poky. Maybe they’re like whatever it was that I’d stabbed my eye and had scratched up my forehead so badly on, the ragged pain from the torn skin there making itself known once more the moment my sluggish thoughts returned to it again. I won’t be surprised if whatever those metal bits are were still drawing more blood wherever they’re in contact with my compressed form, even through my clothes.
And then some of the areas where I hurt feel different… I had to think about it for a while because my thoughts were coming to me all muggy and slow from the exhaustion, trauma, and lack of hydration, but eventually it hit me…the bugs haven’t just been crawling on me. Some of them have been feasting.
I can feel countless little sore spots here and there where I’ve been bitten and a few other areas where they’ve really been able to concentrate their instinctual efforts. Oh, god… I feel sick all over again, but I’m stuck in place and the panic is becoming palpable. There isn’t much else I can do to squirm or dislodge them. After forcing myself to take a few deep breaths, some measure of focus returned to my no doubt concussion-addled brain.
Honestly though, the worst of all of the realizations I came to, even with the constant pain from all of my injuries, and the bugs, and the smells, and the shame and despair I feel knowing that I’ll likely need to relieve myself again soon? It’s the fact that it’s completely dark.
Waking up in the dark doesn’t just mean that the school day has long since been over. It also means that, even though only a very few people had been around to see what had been done to me, one of those people had almost certainly been Emma, and the fact that she hadn’t tried to help me in any way during or even after all of that… well, it’s irrefutable proof that she really doesn’t care… at all… about me anymore.
I’ve always held out hope that she’ll come back to me when she comes to her senses. My longtime best friend… the girl I had loved so much more than she’d ever known. As the comprehension of that fact came crushing down on me, my heart broke all over again, just as badly as the first time it had happened all those months ago.
The “prank” that I’d heard this referred to being earlier during the violent attack, was in fact not over. My living hell is still going, and it likely will be for hours yet… and my dearest Emma had apparently approved of all this happening.
Hell, who am I kidding? She probably convinced whoever did it to go through with it in the first place... with however little effort that would have taken. At this point, I could do nothing to stop the flood of tears falling quietly free from my eyes despite the extra pain the salty moisture was setting off in my damaged eye. The emotional wound from the knowledge that Emma truly hates me this much hurts way more than any beating my attacker could ever have laid out on me.
The ensuing feeling of emptiness directed my thoughts toward Dad. I really want him to come find me, to bring me home so that we could sit together and watch that movie like we’d planned. But on the other hand, I also don’t want him to worry too badly, and I don’t want him to see me like this. It’d break his heart too. This might send him back down the spiral he’s just been starting to break free from…
Emma … Emma, why? Why didn’t you do anything, even after the show was over? Fuuuck! It hurts so freaking bad, and she… that had obviously been an attempt to kill me, and even then, Emma still didn’t care…? She truly hates me as much as she’s said she does... My stupid, hopeless ass just never fully believed her.
But it’s clear as day now, none of the years we spent together as friends or practical sisters mean anything to her.
The walls of the locker started to feel tighter, as if they were closing in on me. My mind was settling back into the panic that I’d felt earlier and all I could do through the sting of torment and newly acquired claustrophobia was sit there and take it. The desire to get out and go home grew tremendously strong right then, but I know I’ll be stuck here until at least morning regardless of what I can do. I’m not quite sure I’ll make it out of here alive or even sane, expecting either my body to fail or my mind to break long before then.
I feel so weak, no energy remaining for anything beyond automatic bodily functions and more silent tears. I longed for release, my breaths coming shallow and quick, hoping even just to fall back to sleep and dream of better days when Emma and I had been inseparable, as that was the only realistic escape that was currently within my grasp.
For a moment, in the background of my shaken consciousness, it felt as if a very small localized earthquake was going off or maybe as if something had impacted right beyond this wall of the school, since my locker seemed to rock for a brief instant, but really all of those sensations could have just been in my head as the understanding of how thoroughly abandoned and closed in I really am in this world started to sink in. I began to hyperventilate worse than I ever have before, achingly sipping down this thick, putrid air, and my wish was soon granted as I passed out again shortly after the significance of my friend’s final betrayal had stampeded over my soul.
I dreamt of stars and large slug-like things spinning through space, dropping parts of themselves as they soared, all while expressing their curious intent.