I Don't Need Your Help (wxg)

Chapter 3: Questions

Y/N's POV

The next morning I woke up with a sore body and many new bruises. I tried to get up which was excruciatingly painful. I felt every muscle in my body throb in pain, it was unbearable, every move felt like someone was stabbing me. I walked into the bathroom, well more like limped and looked at myself in the mirror as I saw the big bruise under my eye and on my jawline with a cut on my lip, the blood around it long since dried up. I took my clothes off drawing in a breath every time the fabric touched a bruise or every time I moved in an inconvenient way. My body was more purple and blue than it was the color of my skin tone, making it look as if I just came back home from fucking war. I got into the shower, turning the water on and letting the water trail down my small frame.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off and then got dressed into something comfortable. Then I put some makeup on, trying to cover up the bruises on my face. I don't have the best makeup, so it was still kind of visible. Yeah I'm no makeup artist either, but nobody ever looks at me anyway, so I think I'm good. Besides you'd have to really look to see it, I doubt anybody will look at me long enough, another thing is, nobody ever fucking cares, so I doubt it'll be a problem. I took one last look at my face - from afar it's even less noticable, you can barely even see it.

Anyway, time to go to school.

It was nearing the end of second period. So far it was pretty fine and boring as usual, so I just doodled in my sketchbook, minding my own business, the teacher's voice playing in the back of my head like stereo. Why am I even wasting my time here? I'd rather be doing a million other things than this. I looked around and glanced at the other students, some of them paying attention and taking notes, others on their phones, it was all kind of... stereotypical, everyone had to waste their time here, they all looked the same in a way, we were all just little puppets, doing what someone else told us...

Well anyways...

I had Art next. Fucking great. I mean I like Art and drawing and everything including that, but Ms. Benoist is so fucking impossible and I only had one class with her. I just don't have the mood for that today or any day for that matter... Sure, she's also really nice to look at, I'm not saying she's not gorgeous, but her personality is something entirely else, but maybe she just doesn't like me... Then again I heard other people complaining as well, so it might not be just me.

The bell rang so I started walking to the classroom, which was all the way in the far back of the corridor. When I got there I saw Ms. Benoist standing at the door and greeting all the students coming in. When she locked eyes with mine her face softened and showed worry, as her gaze travelled over my features. "Are you okay Ms. Y/L/N?" Don't fucking tell me she noticed the bruise under my right eye.  Literally nobody noticed it the whole day! Then again she's like the first person to actually look at me today, so maybe it's that. Fucking hell. Somebody help me. I wish the floor underneath my feet would just swallow me whole. "Y-yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I replied trying to not sound suspicious. When she didn't have anything else to say and just gave me a strict unconvinced look I just walked past her and sat at my seat at the back trying really hard not to flinch, 'cause my ribs felt like they were on fire.

"So class today we're gonna..." Ms. Benoist started the lesson, but I just zoned out, feeling too tired to pay attention to her words. Honestly I wasn't even trying, I just stared out into nothingness, random thoughts clouding my mind in the process.

After a while I started doodling in my sketchbook, because that helped me get my mind off of things and it's like the only thing I could do to keep myself occupied. "Hand that over Ms. Y/L/N and pay attention." Said Ms. Benoist with a strict voice looking pretty angry while holding out her hand waiting for the crumpled sketchbook. "I'm not doing that, it's mine and you have no right to take it." I have pretty personal stuff in there and if she were to go through it, let's just say that it wouldn't be... Ideal. "Well you're gonna have to, because I don't think you want another detention, do you? And I have every right to take it, I'm your superior." She argued raising her voice at me and glaring straight through my soul, so with a roll of my eyes I handed my sketchbook over to her, putting it in her outstretched hand. She had a satisfied look on her face as she walked back over to her desk. Well, what  am I supposed to do now? Isn't Art class supposed to be fun and not boring? Sure she's obviously passionate about it when she talks about the subject, but like why can't we just spend the period drawing and painting? Whatever I guess...