*EDITING* I am editing the first part of my story before I continue to have everything make sense.
Every person is a puzzle, their pieces make up who they are. Some have all the pieces, some may not.
Two college students who have many missing piec...
**MENTION : Bullying, Sexual Assault. ** skip if you want but there is important info.
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I'm walking down the building's high walls. There are people sitting on the chairs engrossed in their textbooks.
I pass multiple people. The closer I got to my room 2749 the stares started to feel on my back.
My hair is starting to stand up.
Are they looking at me?
No. I'm nobody. No one knows who I am.
Why would they look?
Is there something on my ass?!
Shit.
I take a quick glance over my shoulder to see many people have stopped their walk and studies to blatantly look at me. They continue to murmur and whisper.
I stopped my movement. I pull my purse over my ass in case there is something on my tush.
The stares are growing stronger by the second and the whispers are spreading like wildfires out the building door with the few people that have left.
Are we in fucking highschool again?
I force myself to un plant my feet to hide myself behind the big 2749 door.
As I am walking through the door I catch a glimpse of the biggest bitch and might I say whore. (I hate calling a woman that but she truly is.) Raquel Davis.
She struts out of the teachers office. Red curly hair frizzy, usually perfectly painted red lips smudged to a rose color. Her skirt is shifted to the side and the green spaghetti strap tank top is raised so high you can see her bra.
She's desperately trying to cover up the fact she was just fucked.
But we all know she doesn't give a shit if people see her.
She wants everyone to know.
I hate to admit I am glad she walked out when she did because the people who have been watching me as if I was a statue.
She smirks at the eyes on her.
I slip into the class and to the middle back of the class and pull out all my pieces of my project. We are working on making a board of... oh I don't know what.
I'm too focused on slowing my heart rate and the raised hairs on my arms so that none of my classmates notice.
I pull out my air pods and notebook with my sketches in it.
I get to work and try my best to get through this class. Some of my classmates are already here and oblivious to what happened in the hallway.
