...
❝He was the poison I was dying to taste on my lips.❞
...
I was a coward.
The coward who wanted to leave behind the wreckage of her life for the man who had tormented her for as long as she could remember. The boy who had spit venom at me gro...
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I SLAMMED MY locker shut, eyes locking on the word 'slut' carved onto the metal in big, bold letters. Holding back a groan, I ignored it for the time being, not wanting to deal with it first thing in the morning, and rushed to my English lesson.
Although I'd chosen Biology and Maths because I was good at those subjects, I'd been reluctant to choose English after the whole suicide letter fiasco at LeSaux. The idea of writing and potentially stepping into a different persona had become difficult after that, afraid that my words as a different narrator could impact me and ruin any future friendships, relationships or opportunities.
But when I was applying for my A-Level choices, the first subject I'd picked was English. I'd loved writing and literature from as long as I could remember and I wasn't about to let those secondary school bullies taunt me for the remainder of my life and steal away the opportunity of doing something I loved for the rest of time. My purpose was words and I could only live up to half of my potential when I was suppressing the joy I found in them.
I took my seat next to Alistair as the teacher had set a seating plan and coincidentally put me next to one of River's best friends. Although, he was nowhere near as bad as the devil himself, only short with whatever he said and withdrawn. You'd think that someone who chose English Literature would have more of a passion for exploring everything the language had to offer, but he steered clear from talking whenever he could. That wasn't to say he wasn't intelligent, however, because when he did speak each syllable was laced with sophisticated intellect and purpose.
"Morning," I injected some extra cheer into my voice, hoping some of it would rub off on his boredom.
He nodded in response, the fact that I was trying a little too hard to force my demeanour not escaping his attention. But he didn't address it and bookmarked a page of the book he'd been reading, putting it aside as the teacher scurried in.
"Terribly sorry I'm late, guys. You wouldn't believe the morning I just had even if I recounted every second in ultra detail," Ms Lilley breathed, rushing to set her things down and compose herself. "So, who's going to remind me where we left off last lesson?"
Not a single hand shot up and she grinned before cold-calling a girl at the front, who muttered a response. "We were discussing the book of our choice that we'd be comparing Wuthering Heights to."
"Right." She finished sifting through her planner. "What book do you plan to write about, Yara?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"Well, you better get a move on and start brainstorming then. We need to get started on the latter part of our coursework as soon as we can." She pulled a face that made Yara's situation seem almost blasphemous. "Does anyone in here have any ideas? Or why don't I give you a minute to discuss it with your partners and formulate a better response?"
A chorus of chatter ensued a second later and I turned to Alistair who reluctantly leaned back.
