Chapter Five

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Brett whipped his head to the side and up to the figure backlit by the window. She bent down and came into view and her long, brown ponytail fell over her shoulder. She smirked mischievously at us.

"Hard not to notice Brett bolt the aisle and disappear. But then again, Nadine was so focused on talking to her friend that she didn't notice. Lucky me, I get to catch you two cuddling in the bookshelves." She explained.

Brett and I sighed in relief. "We aren't cuddling, Jenny. Just avoiding Nadine." Brett fell into a heap beside me, letting go of my hands.

Jenny's eyes flicked to the shelving Brett and I were leaning against. "Don't worry, she grabbed whatever book she needed and headed towards the door." She plopped down across from me. "Are you okay? You're pale."

I swallowed hard and nodded. I wiped the sweat from my palms on my uniform skirt. I continued to take deep breaths, attempting to bring my heart rate down.

"My fault, I scared her." He informed her.

"Well don't. She clearly doesn't handle that well."

Brett held up his hands in the air, "I know. Never again."

Jenny stood then, and we followed. "I only came to grab a few books before I head out. Have fun canoodling in the bookshelves." She winked and bounced off.

"I'm sorry." He apologized again.

"It's okay."

"I promise to not scare you again. I swear." Brett laid his hand over his heart. I nodded in response. He took the book from my hands and I followed him back towards the aisle I was in. "I'll put this in our cubicle."

I refocused on the books I was looking at for school, but my brain was stuck on how I reacted to Brett. It was bad enough that I would flinch in response to some sudden moments, but now a panic attack? Maybe it was only because of what happened after the football game.

Having panic attacks in response would become quite problematic with the friends I was making. I wasn't sure how to avoid having panic attacks, but I didn't want to give up the friendships that I had never had before.

The rest of the night was quiet. Brett seemed to pick up on my cue that I was feeling off since the panic attack. I couldn't stop replaying it in my head. My body was going through motions without much thought behind them. Which is why I dropped a plate that I was drying for my mother. It fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of pieces.

I heard the distinct noise of the foot of the recliner closing with a click. Heavy footsteps fell upon my mother and I in the kitchen. I turned around to face my father's overpowering figure in the entryway of the kitchen.

"You stupid girl!" He barked out and he stalked towards me. I braced myself for impact, quickly closing my eyes as he grabbed a firm grip of my hair and tossed me to the floor as if I weighed nothing.

I caught myself by falling on my hands. A mistake. He threw me right where all the ceramic pieces were. Pieces jabbed into my palms and my hip. I hissed immediately at the pain and blood starting to drip from my hands all over the floor. I gingerly lifted my hands and stared at the red liquid. I was shaking.

"Can't you do anything right?" He shouted at me. He smacked me hard across the back of my head, my hair flying forward from the motion.

He quickly took off to return to his throne in the family room in front of the TV. My mother, finally registering what happened, bent down with a rag in her hands. There were large and small pieces embedded into my hands; the largest chunk was in my left hand.

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