Silence

Chapter 8

Evelyn's POV

I took a piece of paper from the floor.

With rushed, sloppy handwriting I wrote insanely 'Help me! Help me! Help me! Somebody! Please! I need it!'.

I look up at the ceiling.

Then I lay my face in my paper.

My eyes look at the words I'm laying on.

The words I want someone to see.

The words I'm too afraid to show.

When I pick my face up my paper is soaked. I wipe away a tear from my cheek, angry at myself for crying, once again. Then I took my pencil and wrote on the paper 'It shouldn't hurt to be a child'. And then I stabbed the pencil into my arm, hating every part of me.

Ouch.

I'm just a punching bag.

That's all I am.

Punching bags are meant to be hurt.

My stomach growled. I'm always starving. My parents don't give me enough to eat. In fact, they don't really give me any food. I only eat their leftovers for dinner. I get no breakfast and no lunch unless I'm able to scrabble a bit of food up.

Lunch the next day was how it always was at school. I go to my tree, hiding behind it, trying to protect myself from the world.

But that tree must be a traitor because it didn't protect me from this guy that was walking towards me.

I recognized him as one of the basketball jocks, Brayden. The boy who dated and dumped all the cheerleaders.

No, I'm not kidding. He actually did that.

My breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded so hard as if it was trying to escape my chest.

Brayden smirked. He pointed to me. I looked at him with my fearful ice eyes. "You," he said with an eyebrow cocked. A memory flashed in my mind. It was of dad. Looking at me. And saying, accusingly even though I didn't know what I did, 'you', spitting in my face.

Everyone was looking this way. Of course they were. The person right in front of me, giving all of his attention to me, was one of the popular jocks. I didn't want him to give me attention. I just wanted to hide. Wasn't it obvious enough? I was hiding behind this tree. Trying to be invisible to the world. Just let me be.

Please.

Brayden crouched down besides me, his green eyes narrowed at me. "It's 90 degrees. What's up with the winter clothes?" The snarky remark rolls off his tongue.

My feel my eyes widen and chills raise on my skin.

"I want you to pull up your sleeve," Brayden said, ignoring Noah and keeping his intense face on me.

I shook my head wildly.

My scars.

Don't look at my scars.

Go.

Leave.

I'm scared.

"Fine. Then I'll have to do it myself," Brayden said with amusement laced into his voice.

I stared at him. My eyes were wild. Wild and frozen. Shards of ice swirling in a snow storm.

"Aww, you little sad girl," he said in a sarcastic pitiful voice, crouching down next to me. I flinched from the mischievous glint in Brayden's eyes.

Suddenly, Brayden's stumbling back from the force of two hands pushing him back from me.

Noah.

"Get the fuck away from her," Noah spat at Brayden who had now stood up, eye level with Noah.