Sunshine and thorns

Chapter one

It was completely his fault.

That's what I'm thinking as my knuckles collide with the side of his face, the sickening crunch of bone-on-bone echoing through the eerily silent corridor. There's a second where nothing happens, and no one moves. Where I go to a time and place away from all the shocked faces of bored teenagers and the disbelief on his face as blood drips from my knuckles. Then it's gone and I'm back in the bleak hallway of Hawkins High on a dismal Monday morning. The following sound of his grunt and his body hitting the floor seeming to shock the rest of the world back into motion as 'oohs' and gasps sound off around me.

It saddens me for a moment how inherently fascinated humans are with the suffering of those around them. In reality, we never really evolved past the times of gladiators and the colleseum.

But like I said, it was completely his fault.

"Don't ever touch me again!" I spit down at him as he looks up at me from the ground, nothing but unfiltered fear in his eyes. I feel a sick sense of power.

"Miss Keys!" I grit my teeth as Principal Watkins makes his way down the hall, his permenant scowl etched deeper into his weathered face now a shade of beet red I'm rather proud to say I caused. I roll my eyes before I can restrain myself and his eyebrow twitches in anger. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

His voice booms down the hallway and I almost flinch. I don't though.

"She's crazy, sir!" The boy on the ground whose name I don't care to learn whimpers for effect, pointing at me like I'm a lion in a zoo. Pathetic.

"He grabbed me, sir. I was defending myself." I attempt to explain but I know it's pointless. Nameless boy is wearing a varsity jacket, in Hawkins that means a hell of a lot more than the autonomy of some crazy teenage girl.

"I didn't, sir! I was just trying to walk past her and she hit me!" Nameless boy practically cries. It's a weak lie but it's good enough for Watkins. He rounds on me, face getting redder by the second as his anger boils over.

"My office, now!" He yells, composure is not his strong suit I've come to find. I know the smart thing is to silently walk myself to his office, listen to his lecture, apologise even if I don't mean it and then move on with my life. I think it's bullshit though. He grabbed my ass because he thinks I'm nothing more than an object for his entertainment and I'm expected to just take it? No.

"No."

The hallway is silent save for Watkins's heavy breathing and the over-dramatic whimpering of Nameless. Watkins's eye twitches as he balls his fists.

"No?" His voice cracks.

"No. I was defending myself, I didn't do anything wrong." My voice is calm, even, emotionless. Some people might say I'm cold but I prefer to think of myself as composed. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean I don't feel it. Inside I'm filled with rage but showing them that would only empower them.

"My office now or you're suspended!" Watkins tries again his breath becoming more uneven the longer this goes on. I stand up straighter.

"Are you going to suspend him for sexually assaulting me?" The look on Watkins's face is pricless. Buggy eyes and gaping mouth big enough to catch whole birds, forget flies. All the redness drains from his face and he looks paler than the moon. Coughing and spluttering on his words.

"That's a very serious allegation, young lady." It comes out choppy and strained with an underlying sense of anger and anxiety.

"He touched me without my consent. That's sexual assault." My tone never wavers but I'm growing tired of this conversation. I know it will lead to exactly nothing so it's wasting my time. If there's one thing I hate, it's wasting my time.