Chapter 16: Chapter Fifteen

[A/N] Alright, late but present here we go !   (*ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀*)♡

I'd never felt so watched before, as I moved through the hallways from class to class, sitting quietly on my own on a table that was practically clean. I felt the warmth of their eyes, and saw them on the periphery of my vision, turned toward me.

When I did look up and around the attention hurriedly shifted away from me. I still allowed myself to assume that some of the whispering was about me.

Rumours that had apparently not made their way through the class enough while I was gone were making the rounds again. I heard the half sentences that suggested someone may have heard Patricks father.

I never quite understood what impression the rest of the students had of me. The apathy that allowed them to watch some of what they had seen and say nothing left me feeling disillusioned with people, and disconnected, so that now I sat and did not try to understand them anymore.

If they cared or if they didn't care. If I disliked them or didn't.

In the end it took my dive off the bridge to see things clearly for the first time since primary school.

They were all strangers, they owed me nothing, and realistically speaking, it's sometimes hard to adjust, through a second set of eyes, how narrow the lenses are.

Each student had their own life, important things to be concerned about, each soul wrapped up in their own little lives, trudging along on their own.

For the first time I saw the girls in the corner taking turns to pull on the black ponytail of the girl in front of them, giggling as her head was yanked backwards and she bounced forwards without a word. Not bowing her head, not saying anything at all.

The one with caramel curls behind let out a terrible snort when her chair screeched on the floor from a particularly harsh tug.

I raised a brow from my seat.

It was a sort of out of body experience really. Watching that girl endure a similar treatment. Of course if I interfered I might make it worse, inspire that rabid guilt-provoked indignation, or she might have welcomed the harassment, perhaps they dished it out in equal parts to one another.

Regardless when the teacher turned from facing away from the class, adjusting the screen, to face them at the front, they stopped and there was nothing left to look at.

She handed out a pop quiz next. And for the first time in something like five years I filled out the question sheet with such clarity and ease that when it came to handing it in I was convinced I would find out I'd somehow misunderstood everything.

Instead I got a perfect score. I stared at that thirty out of thirty for about a full minute.

I should have been happy, but I didn't feel anything but mild surprise, everything else was numb.

Was depression supposed to work like this?

It was wonderful.

The world was so quiet, nothing but the birds and trees, human voices like white noise.

I wanted to stay like this forever.

But I doubted they would stay suspended for long, curiously although Patrick was the only one called into the office none of the other boys seemed to be in either, leaving a sort of sparse look to the classroom, patches of the room empty.

Once they returned, once my reality was exchanged for this one, I would see tears in my reflection again, the ones that burned as they ran down my face, tear tracks that left trails of acne down the river pathways down the side and the middle of my cheeks. I would feel distraught again, angry, uneven, bad tempered, I would want to scream again, and break down over and over. Make a fool of myself, say things I couldn't hear over the raging, screaming anxiety. And then repeat it all again.

"Hey..." Sophie was leaning over my desk suddenly, having packed up the same as nearly everyone else filing out of the room. "Are you okay?"

I blinked up at her.

Debbie leaned over her shoulder. "Are you like... are you feeling okay? 'Cause we heard you got beaten up or something... I honestly can't with those boys. They're such freaks..." She twirled a few strands of her short black bob.

No matter how much I squinted at her face, the features were all there of course, and yet I felt it pixelate and fall apart trying to understand her expression. Grey faces, the image equivalent of white noise.

"Yeah..." I nodded.

"So you're alright? We were super worried when we heard you were in the hospital..." Sophie frowned, patted my shoulder and then immediately retrieved her hand, a little tense and awkward.

"I'm fine."

She stared at me, as if waiting for more.

I waited for a moment, about twenty seconds of awkward silence enough for me to sigh deeply inside and spontaneously decide to do something I'd never considered before.

"You've seen them chase me before. You've seen Pierson write on my desk every morning and Nick kick the back of my chair and make fun of me. Hell I'm fairly sure you've laughed at their jokes before... Haven't you even seen Patrick punch me in the stomach in the middle of class...?"

I stared blankly at her, and wondered if I was seeing things or if she was switching between two shades of red and yellow, and Debbie beside her looked a little shocked, and a split second later her eyes narrowed and I saw her jump into her shining armour, ready to defend her friend.

"She was the only one who tried to help-"

"I don't know." I cut in. Feeling like my voice was a little loud, easily drowning out the girls voice, but I didn't mind that. "I don't know what I should feel thankful for. Instead I look at everyone in this class and wonder why they didn't at least speak up when Sharma asked everyone if they'd seen a fight happen last year. Back when Nick slapped me in the face over and over in front of everyone."

"I wasn't-" Debbie tried to defend herself.

"No, you weren't there. But your princess was." I looked at the both of them, still with shock. It was the most I'd spoken in years.

My voice had never felt so loud, so hearable. Like a freshly sharpened knife whose purpose was once to spread butter.

Sophie looked like she was preparing to cry. "You are actually so mean..." Debbie stared at me, shaking her head slowly.

"I'm sure you're both nice girls." I looked at each of them individually. "But..."

I looked down at the cherub keychain and the delicate silver cross necklace on Sophie and the Hello Kitty necklace and earrings on Debbie, the friendship bracelets and one piece of braided hair they sat and knotted up together the entire study period.

"You're not that nice."

"Why-"

I picked up my things and stood up and they backed away so I could get out of my seat, or perhaps they thought I was going to hit them.

"I don't need someone to come up to give me a 'get well' card if they have no idea who they're addressing it to. You don't know me and you don't care to. And..." I scanned them both for a moment. "I don't care to know anyone anymore."

I left immediately after saying that, so I didn't have a chance to see the possibly artificial dam of tears flooding over. Either way I couldn't, even through much introspection, get myself to care.

Soon after I felt the eyes of the girls turn a little more narrowed as they watched me, wary and disgusted.

I headed out immediately after school. I didn't care about homework and only stopped to chuck all my books in my locker and left.

I went down to the pet store I frequented to pick up supplies for Milk, they still had the cactus plushie up at the front that Milk loved.

Milk wasn't loyal to his toys like most other dogs. Milk was a player. The moment he saw a plushie that even slightly resembled his favourite cactus he would act like he was falling in love for the first time, lick it like a cat and try to walk off with it if we were in a store.

I asked about the cat food and ended up with a mixture of dry and wet food. Got a litter tray and fisted a few handfuls of cat toys into my basket, and paid.

I didn't get as much pocket money as Colby. They reduced the amount when we were in trouble and after every argument I found the amount dwindling over time. That was fine though, because I couldn't remember what I was saving up for.

The rest of the evening I walked around and pinned up more posters, but had to return sooner than I wanted to take care of the cat.

Cat seemed to figure out the litter tray pretty much immediately, and even looked relieved before I'd even assembled it. She paced around a bit like she was uncomfortable in the room, but I wasn't sure what else to do with her.

I nudged all of the toys at her and she patted them with her paws lightly before deciding they weren't worthy and started flinging my sock along the carpet and scratching it.

I watched her, sliding down the wall to sit in Milk's bed, and felt subdued as I did. Occasionally she would walk up to me and rub her side on my legs. She seemed so unbothered by how empty I was. Milk would have been anxious or something. This cat seemed to interpret it as me being fragile somehow, and when she wanted something very tentatively tapped my leg or arm, like she was concerned I would fall to pieces if she meowed too loudly. It left a twinge in my chest each time.

I rubbed my eyes as I got up and went to the toilet. I had no idea what I was doing, but I guess I had a cat.

I still felt a slight burn, tears sitting like acid inside my chest, resting on my heart, unable to escape, as I thought of Milk at night, the heavy warm, panting weight missing on my chest.

But still the following morning I woke up to that soft darkness, a belly firmly planted sideways on my face, my mouth and chin free.

She meowed a lot when I got ready for school and dressed in my uniform and circled the door like she wanted to leave.

"Sorry Cat." I told her. "I'll return you after a bit..." I scratched the back of my neck and sighed. "Just give me a few days to find Milk... if he's gone... well no one can hurt him anyway..."

I was somehow not convinced the murderer from that night would actually eat my dog, but I still wanted the cat in the mean time. I didn't bother searching deep for explanations anymore. I wanted what I wanted, fate could punish me for it at her own leisure.

But another school day passed quietly, less faux sympathetic looks than before, less attention in general, but I was quite happy with that.

All was well without them. I understood that now. It meant a lot to me that it wasn't all me.

After all between my primary school and secondary school, through six years of bullies, some expelled, retired or having grown disinterested, the common denominator in each case was me, and in that sense I'd always been fairly certain it was my fault, and because of this I would never find peace in my life.

I would be bullied no matter where I went, walked on like a wet rug, prostrating desperately against the floor.

Unfortunately they were already back.

Not even two days and they were back. No doubt the school counted the time that I was gone as part of their suspension as well, but it meant nothing to me if I wasn't there to enjoy their lack of presence.

Of course I wouldn't have known they were back if we hadn't been told to sit in the library and read for the last session as our teacher was off ill with no replacement, and as the students filed out of the room after the bell I'd barely heard it, lost in the pages of a book I would forget the moment I closed it.

The light in the corridor was dark when I stepped outside, and my movement, combined with theirs, was what switched the automatic lights back on as I headed back down the hall.

The way that they smiled at me as they passed on their way to some kind of collective parent teacher meeting left a mild throb in my chest that I couldn't quite place. Maybe I was hurt, or disgusted, or maybe I felt nothing at all.

"He's not even dead, the dickhead..." Nick mumbled as he walked past, dragging his feet a few metres behind his mother who was walking ahead of him down the hall.

I smiled at him as he passed and his eyes barely glanced at me. I saw him double take and look back at me but continued walking in the opposite direction.

"I am a happy bee,

I buzz around the trees,

I never leave a trace,

I fill the empty space..."  I hummed the poem out loud as I walked and it repeated itself in my head.

Some days I had felt so utterly exhausted by the prospect of opening that form room door that I would stand there outside for ten or twenty minutes just staring at it, reading that poem over and over until it floated in my head like a mantra.

It just so happened that as I finished the last line; "I'll pass before the winter..." I felt a hand on my shoulder as I passed through the school gates, the brilliant, oddly sharp, white teeth of Pike, a bright yellow jacket, that neon coloured hair and piercings. He glanced up briefly, and then back at me.

And one cursory glance up proved the reaper himself to be laying casually against the tall wall of the school.

The picture of Death, serenely languishing on the red brick, his upper back and head leaning on the aesthetic gate top the wall pressed against. Broad shoulders sending the leather jacket dripping down either side of the brick, one leg on top of the other, a face so ethereally perfect that with the full benefit of the sun it looked almost edited in one of those photo programs. Orange-pink lips, olive skin and black eyes, a glimmer of crystal clear brown in them.

He was reading something, and with his eyes hooded like that he might have looked asleep from any other angle.

"Sometimes I'm in the queue and they each step in front of me one by one, and everyone watches and lets them, and I let them because I'm weak..."

I froze absolutely still.

The careful uncaring drawl continued. "I think I should make myself lunches. But I don't have the energy I don't think. Irene won't make them. Dad certainly won't. I'd rather not eat. Sometimes I don't."

I was surprised to realise I could still feel humiliation, of all the emotions to still be able to feel... it burned in my chest and I felt a tinge of warmth filter into my face as I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes.

He turns to look down at me casually, and the slow pulse of death beats in my neck again, a prickling of awareness each time that black gaze touched my skin.

Arran hummed low, and it somehow reminded me of a snake's hiss.

I moved away and the hand on my shoulder moved to grab my arm, an intense smile on Pike's face never wavering. He patted my face. "We need to chat..."

"I'm not the talkative type."

I tried to shake my arm loose as I continued to back away but only just managed to get him off as Arran jumped down from the wall and walked up and my heart somehow climbed into my throat and my chest felt cold as I backed up and saw him approach.

He raised the diary of mine between two fingers. "This doesn't sound like the kind of stupid boy to steal from me... does it?"

I stared blankly back at him.

His eyes flashed, and yet if anything they only became darker.

He smiled at me and I saw myself in that tarpaulin, my blood dripping off onto the dirty underground carpark floor, rigid and pale.

Before I could take more than one step around to walk away he had caught up, and my blood felt cold as he grabbed the back of my shirt, just below my collar, forcing me, to my mild surprise, back inside the school.

No one was around. The school grounds had emptied. His timing was impeccable. But if he did choose to kill me here I wondered if he would keep the cameras at the security gate in mind.

I walked stiff muscles ahead of them, the fold long fingers unsympathetically digging into my neck. I might have looked something like a disobedient cat being carted away, the fabric of my shirt cutting into my throat, Pike following behind us, a blade just barely visible, mostly audible, flicking open and closed inside the pocket of his jacket.

Without a single wrong turn he took me to the back of the school and let go of me, stood for a moment as he looked down at me, and a second later I felt someone kick the back of my legs hard and as my knees buckled out I lost my balance I slumped over onto the floor suddenly, hissing as my knees hit the dry soil and pulsed with pain, and looked up at the both of them where I was sat kneeling as Pike walked slowly around me.

"Hey..." Pike grinned down at me, his row of ear piercings all glinting in the light on one side. "Nice to meet you again."

[A/N] Thank you for the Wattpad Creators Program sponsoring this novel, and my patrons, who are contractually obliged to accept my e-hugs and kisses. (づ￣ ³￣)づ ♡