' 2 '

Fleurie's point of view:

I take a deep breath and hold one of my thin hands to my chest,

soothing my heartbeat. I cautiously pushed the classroom door open.

My gaze was drawn to penetrating dark brown eyes. He was smiling at

me, and he was wearing a white shirt with his toned abs visible through

it.

I can't take my gaze away from his eyes as they evoke so many

unknown emotions in me. They are breathtaking.

Unlike mine, his dark hair appears silky, smooth, and healthy. My heart

is racing as though I've been running for eternity.

When someone cleared his throat, I jolted out of my daze. The teacher

had brown hair, glasses that dangle on the tip of his nose, and blue

eyes; he grinned and questioned.

"You must be a new student, correct? Fleurie?" I confirmed with a nod.

"My name is Mr Helton," he replied with a phoney smile.

" The seat beside Marisa is empty, can you raise your hand?" He said as

a pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes smiled at me as she

extended her hand.

The seat next to her was right next to the window.

I HATE windows, despise them even. They implant false hopes in you

and make you yearn for the outside world.

The windows’ hope had deserted me.

I tried to flee once, via a window that the scumbag had forgotten to

latch and lock. As soon as I leapt out the window, he hauled me back

inside the home.

I despised my so-called brother even more. He was able to flee this hell

without me, leaving me to be tortured by this scumbag.

He kept me in the attic for nearly a week. He'd toss leftovers of his meal

at me, and I'd take them without question or I'd starve to death.

I wet myself the entire time he locked me up in the attic since there was

no bathroom.

I remember wishing for my own death, and I still do. I long to be with

her, to be with my mother once more.

" Miss Collison, you can go and sit in your seat,” I jerked out of my

trance and hurried to take the seat next to Marisa.

After approximately forty-five minutes, the bell rang, and I gathered my

things and exited the classroom as quickly as could, not wanting to

form any connections with anyone, you know why.

I was running down the overcrowded corridor, head down, towards my

locker, which was already full of the books I would need for the

semester, to pick up the next class books. I opened the locker and took

out the biology book. When I locked the locker, the attractive smiling

guy I saw in class was standing in front of me, staring at me and warmly

smiling.

"Hey," He said, I ignored him as I walked into the way of the classroom,

but it was for his own good; after all, I don't want him to die because of

me. He was still following me when he suddenly stood in front of me,

blocking my path.

“I'm kind of talking to you," He says, still not looking at him, pulling my

hood down farther so he doesn't see my bruises.

I ignored him and dashed into the classroom, hoping he wouldn't find

me again. Classes are tedious and boring, and it is finally time for lunch.

I'm making my way to the cafeteria, praying no one would approach

me. But, as usual, I was unable to escape it.

"Look who we have here, the tiny new hideous girl,” a feminine voice

remarked to me, I believe.

"What? you think you're not going to look at me and avoid me?" she

exclaimed, increasing her voice.

"Hey, Bianca I feel she is being disrespectful to us.” What in the world is

she thinking?

"You're correct, Stella," three red heels approached me as one of them

exclaimed.

"Pull your hood, you little bitch,” She said. I'm fiercely gripping my

hood because I don't want anyone to see them.

"You're not going to do it? So let me do it." With a sneer, one of them

said.

I felt a hand yanking on my right hand and another on my left, and they

were powerful enough to take it off my head. Someone is tugging my

hood down. I can hear the other student's gasps and the girls releasing

their grip on me. Of course, they witnessed the torture, slaps, punches,

and scars inflicted by the scumbags on my face.

Someone snarled in a deep, chilly, and menacing voice, "Back off,

Bianca.”

I can hear the girls scurrying away in their red heels while I continue to

stare down,

" What happened to your face?" The same voice said, but this time it

was softer and demanding answers.

Of course, I disregarded zipping up my hood and sprinting down the

corridor to my next lesson.

The remainder of the day passed as usual, with no bullying from

anyone or that guy stalking. But I'm not looking forward to returning to

that house.

not wanting to confront that drunken man, nor his punches, slaps, kicks

or sexual assault

Yes, my life is truly lovely.