I wouldn't call myself your typical 16-year-old high school girl. Some girls won't wear white because of their bra or scared their period might rear its ugly head. I can't wear white unless I want to showcase my artistically placed scars created an...
That one word could have changed my entire life. The one thing in life that would have no doubt changed me as a person. Monsters I ended up with do not deserve the title of 'parents'.
I freeze in the doorway of the art studio and I can feel my face paling at Mr. Toma's request for my...parents. If he finds out...he could no doubt send me into foster care. The place I've been determined to avoid since escaping my personal prison.
Putting on a blank face, I quickly pull myself together. I try not to feel and become numb to the world. I am a living ghost. Slowly, I turn around and face the two. I stare directly into their eyes. Gabriel faces drops from his previous frown goes completely white as his mouth goes slack while Mr. Toma narrows his eyes.
"Is there a problem Sang?"
It takes me a minute to finally process his question since I've cut all ties with the world right now. This special talent is something I've practiced over the years through my torture sessions. Cutting myself off from everything helped me stay sane and alive. The whippings, beatings, and almost drowning's were dealt with in this manner. The only drawback...I don't know when I can come back. I don't know how to turn this...stasis off. It could last minutes, hours, even days.
I hear a very faint "Miss Sorenson," and I slowly come back to the world again. Mr. Toma is standing right in front of me. I squeak and jump back a bit. Gabriel is further back still looking as white as a sheet.
"What the hell..."
"Enough Gabriel. Miss Sorenson, is something the matter-are you feeling okay?" Mr. Toma looks at me with cautious eyes. I shake my head 'no' and turn in my heel. I stride through the doorway feeling and probably looking, haunted.
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I make it through the sea of students to my locker and finally catch my breath. The halls are practically a rushing river of students! I shake my head and open my locker to its pink glory. I sort through my bag trying to locate my safety box. My hands are trembling by the time I find it and it takes me extra long to scramble it up. As I play and solve my cube at my locker, I rehearse my schedule for the rest of the day.
AP History, Lunch, Music, Japanese, Gym.
Repeat.
AP History, Lunch, Music, Japanese, Gym.
Repeat
AP History, Lunch, Music, Japanese, Gym.
By the time I'm done rehearsing my schedule, the bell rings and I take a deep breath to control my nerves. I finish the last side of the Rubix cube for the fifteenth time and shut my locker. I then head to dreaded AP History since Mr. Toma mentioned that he was the teacher.
Silently trudging my way down the stairs towards the history wing, I keep my head down and try to keep a low profile. Tripping over people who 'didn't see me' is exactly the type of satisfaction that I need.
Making it to 'A7' with only two bruises is a victory in itself. Go me!
Preparing myself to face Mr. Toma again, I take a deep breath and try to look like the last hour never happened. This will hopefully seize any suspicions he has about me thanks to my drawing and from showing off my practiced 'cut off all feelings' mode.
With my safety box in hand and a relaxed face, I step into Mr. Tomas's domain.
