Chapter 41 #2
Their laughter stopped instantly. Aspen recovered first, bursting out laughing again, but Hailie didn’t. Her face twisted, eyes dark, clearly taking it as what it was.
An attack.
And without a second thought, she came straight at me.
I barely had time to react, but instinct kicked in, and I threw my arms up to shield my head, my lunchbox falling to the ground. My shield didn’t help. Hailie’s fingers tangled in my hair anyway, her fists closing tight as she yanked hard enough to make my vision blur.
“You bitch. How dare you?”
All I had done was flip her off. One small gesture.
Something people did every day without thinking twice.
And somehow that was worse to her than every word she had thrown at me for months, worse than every look, every shove, every whisper meant to make me smaller.
It was enough to make her want to hurt me.
She kept pulling, jerking my head back and down, and I clawed at her hands, trying to get free. She didn’t loosen her grip. She was stronger than I was, and she knew it. The pain shot through my scalp and down my neck, and no matter how hard I struggled, she wouldn’t let go.
I stumbled sideways when she shoved my head down again, my body folding forward, and then it happened so fast I didn’t even realize it at first. Her knee came up and slammed into my face, straight into my nose.
The pain exploded through me. My hands flew to my face on instinct, and immediately they were wet.
“Hailie.” Bennett’s voice was filled with shock, or maybe I only imagined it, because he still wasn’t pulling her off me. He didn’t step in.
“You’re a whore. A useless, disabled whore,” she screamed, her grip on my hair never easing.
The pain in my scalp faded into the background, swallowed by the deep, pulsing ache in my face. Blood kept pouring out of my nose, soaking my hands, and running down my wrists. The fabric of my sweater stopped it from running down my arms, but there was so much that it dripped onto the floor.
“Hailie, come on. That’s enough.” Bennett said again. But he was still standing there.
My body started to shake as tears spilled over.
My breathing came in short and uneven pulls.
As if the bleeding wasn’t enough, she started hitting the side of my head.
Her punches weren’t hard, not like the knee, but they landed again and again, each one adding to the pressure and the ringing until dizziness crept in.
The hallway tilted, and my legs felt weak and useless.
If she hadn’t been holding me upright by my hair, I would have collapsed.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to make noise and draw attention to what was happening to me, but a voice deep inside of me told me I wasn’t worth it as my body stayed silent.
I was trapped like I always was. I had no voice to call for help.
My father had made sure of that a long time ago.
I didn’t think about him often anymore. I tried not to. But in that moment, with pain tearing through me and nowhere for it to go, I was pulled straight back into those memories, back to being small and powerless, and completely alone.
I couldn’t even compare the pain. It had been so long. And I had been so young. But the helplessness felt the same.
Hailie must have burned through whatever strength she had left, because her grip in my hair finally loosened.
She shoved me hard, and I stumbled straight into the lockers.
One of the doors was open, and I recognized it was Hailie’s because of all the pictures of her and Aspen stuck to the inside.
I walked past her locker every day, and every single day she stood there and looked at me like I didn’t belong.
“Let’s just go, Hailie,” Aspen pleaded, her voice tight. “Maybe we should call the nurse…”
“Shut up!” Hailie screamed. “I’m not done with this whore yet.”
My head was spinning. I kept one hand clamped over my nose, trying to stop the blood, while the other searched blindly for balance.
Before I could steady myself, she grabbed both my wrists.
Her fingers dug in hard and twisted, wrenching my arms at an angle that sent pain shooting straight through me.
That’s when I saw her face again. The fury in her eyes was violent and unfiltered.
She didn’t look like a girl anymore. She looked older and meaner.
Like the hatred had carved something ugly into her features and dragged it to the surface.
“Come help me,” Hailie snapped, looking up at Aspen.
“I don’t think I—”
“You’re such a bitch, Aspen! If you’re my friend, you’ll help me.” She twisted my wrists harder, and from the way my head was tilted, I felt the blood slide down the back of my throat.
It was thick and warm and made my stomach lurch. It made me gag.
“What are you going to do?” Aspen asked. She was closer now.
When she stepped into view, I saw the pure horror in her face. She was staring at me, at the blood on my hands, my hoodie, the floor. And still, she didn’t help me. She didn’t move toward me. She didn’t tell Hailie to stop.
I wondered why. Was she scared Hailie would turn on her next? Did she think being loyal to someone this cruel was better than doing the right thing?
“We’re going to break her fingers,” Hailie said calmly. “She doesn’t talk, so we’ll make her.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. They floated somewhere above me.
How did she expect me to start talking when I quite literally didn’t have vocal cords?
Breaking my hands wouldn’t change that. It was pointless.
It was cruel for the sake of being cruel.
I knew she didn’t know, but I didn’t think she’d understand, anyway.
“Hailie…” Aspen whispered.
“Are you helping or not?” Hailie snapped. “God, you’re the worst friend. And don’t think I don’t know you made out with Bennett when he asked me out.”
Oh.
That explained a lot.
I struggled again as my vision tunneled.
“He asked me out first,” Aspen cried.
“Just help me already,” Hailie said. “Grab her wrists.”
Aspen obeyed.
Her hands closed around my wrists, though not as tightly as Hailie’s. It was enough to hold me still. Hailie crouched in front of me and forced my arms sideways until my fingers curled around the sharp edge of the open locker door. For a split second, I thought they were lifting me and helping me.
But I should’ve known that wasn’t their intention.
Then, without a warning, Hailie slammed the door shut.
Metal crushed against my fingers, and pain exploded so violently it felt like my entire body folded inward.
Before I could even process it, she did it again.
And again. The locker rattled with the force, and each slam sent another wave of agony tearing through my hands, up my arms, and straight through my whole body.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Not even air. The pain was so deep and overwhelming that for a second, I swore my voice had come back.
But in reality, I stayed silent.
Aspen let go immediately and stumbled backward. Her voice shook as she spoke. “What did you make me do? Oh my God… Hailie, stop.”
I ripped my hands back and pressed them to my chest, curling inward instinctively, and trying to protect what was left of me. My fingers throbbed and burned. The pain was endless and trapped inside my body, with nowhere to go.
“Hey! Get the fuck off her!”
Ashby.
The sound of his voice cut through everything, and I let go all at once. I stopped fighting. I stopped trying to protect myself. I could finally give in, because he was here now, and I didn’t have to hold myself together anymore.
My body folded in on itself. The pain in my nose kept growing, but the rest of my face and my hands started to go numb, like my body was shutting parts of me down to survive it.
“What the fuck did you do!” Ashby roared.
I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t move my hands. I stared at the dark pool spreading across the floor beneath me, and my thoughts spiraled in useless circles. Was all of that really mine? Had I lost that much blood? Had I hit her back without realizing it, making her bleed too?
“Milow.”
Ashby was in front of me now, down on his knees. His hands were careful and warm as they cupped my face. “Fuck, Milow, are you okay. Look at me.”
His voice was shaking with raw fear, and when I forced myself to meet his eyes, I saw tears burning there.
He looked horrified, like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.
He was trying to make sense of something that shouldn’t have happened.
“Did she do this to you?” he asked, his jaw tight.
I nodded slowly. I didn’t know what else to do.
Blood kept pouring from my nose, soaking his hands, and dripping onto his jeans.
He didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes stayed locked on my face as he searched for something, his head shaking over and over.
“I’m so sorry, Milow. God, I’m so fucking sorry. ”
I didn’t understand why he was apologizing to me. He hadn’t hurt me. This wasn’t his fault.
My hands trembled as I lifted them to sign, even though they were throbbing. [I’m okay.]
His expression hardened immediately. “You’re not okay,” he said, his voice sharp now. “God, Milow, your hands…”
I frowned and looked down at them. The blood had already started to dry on my skin, and as I stared at them, I realized that’s not what he was so worried about. My knuckles on my right hand were swollen.
“I’m taking you to the hospital. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
I shook my head without thinking. We didn’t have time to go to the hospital.
[We have lunch. And we’re going to see Scottie again after school.] I immediately regretted signing. The pain in my hands had overtaken everything else, drowning out even the agony in my nose.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
He sounded angry now, and panic flared inside me. Was he angry at me? Had I done something wrong? My thoughts scrambled, grasping for reasons and apologies that might make it better.
[I’m sorry. I’m sorry.]
“Can you stand up?” he asked, softer again. “I’ve got you.”
I frowned and grabbed onto his arms, letting him pull me to my feet. The moment I stood, the room tilted violently. A hot rush shot through my head, and my stomach twisted. Blood filled my mouth, and it felt like my nose would never stop bleeding.
“Put this under your nose,” Ashby said quietly, forcing himself to stay calm. He pressed a piece of fabric into my hand and guided it up. “Don’t tilt your head back. Let it come out.”
I looked at him, blinking fast as bright spots exploded across my vision. His face doubled, then blurred, and the world around us spun so badly I had to focus on the sound of his voice just to stay upright.
“You’re a fucking coward!”
The shout made me flinch, and I turned my head too fast, sending another wave of dizziness crashing through me. I hadn’t even noticed what was happening around us until then, but when my vision cleared, I saw Stan slamming Bennett back against the wall, his hands twisted in his sweater.
“You’re a coward and a fucking joke!”
“Stan,” Ashby snapped. “He’s not worth it.”
Stan didn’t listen. He shoved Bennett harder, rage pouring out of him. “You’re dead to me. After all these years, after everything, you let this happen to her?”
“Stan,” Ashby said again, his voice strained. “I have to take Milow to the hospital.”
No. No hospital.
I tugged weakly at Ashby’s sleeve, my fingers protesting with every move as I shook my head and let the fabric fall so I could sign. [We have to eat lunch.]
“No,” he shouted, the sound ringing in my ears. “You’re going to the fucking hospital.”
I froze. The anger in his voice knocked the air out of my lungs, and all I could do was stare at him.
Why was he mad? Why was I always wrong?
[I’m sorry.]
“Stop,” he said, interrupting me as he dragged a bloody hand through his hair. He picked the fabric back up and held it to my nose himself, his touch careful but controlled. “Stop apologizing, Milow.”
I nodded because that seemed like the only right thing I could do to stop him from being angry.