Saving Melanie Deen

Chapter 7

I haven't been home in 2 days. Yeah, I guess you could say I'm sort of homeless. I mean, I am staying in the shittiest motel I've ever seen. That hardly qualifies as a home, I'm sure. Being homeless is better than being unconscious on a kitchen floor. To each their own, I guess.

Out of nowhere, my thoughts were disturbed by a ball of scrunched up paper hitting the side of my head. I looked to the other side of the classroom, spotting a very familiar redhead.
I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Quinn gave me a 'are you dumb?' stare, before mouthing the words 'read it'. Jeez, okay. I awkwardly bent down to pick up the piece of paper.

If you keep daydreaming, Ms.Fish-Eye is going to send you to detention soon.

I snorted loudly, gaining unwanted attention from everyone around me. Rolling my eyes at them (as always), I scrunched the paper up to return it to its' previous state. I looked over at the smiling redhead across the room once again. "I don't care" I mouthed, pulling a carefree smile onto my face. She scoffed, playfully.

"Ms.Anderson?" The so-called Ms.Fish-Eye looked up from her book and stared intently at Quinn as she spoke. Quinn smirked, before sighing loudly."Yup?" She popped the 'p'.

"Don't you 'yup' me, Ms.Anderson" The old, cranky teacher stood up, straightening her back as she did so."How about being a mannerly young lady for once?" She crossed her arms, giving Quinn a look of pure disgust.

Quinn waved her off, sighing dramatically."Not about that life, sorry!" She winked, trying not to laugh. The teacher eyed her from head to toe, frowning."Yes, I see" Ms.Fish-Eye huffed. With that, she carefully sat back down and re-opened her book. 

I watched as she began to read, losing all care in her surroundings. I used to read. It was actually one of my favorite things to do when I was younger. I stopped when my mother started calling me a nerd, though. She used to say I was probably switched at the hospital because she wouldn't be caught dead reading (and it shows).

Once again, I was pulled out of my thoughts. This time, by the bell.

I gathered my things and strolled out of the classroom, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle. After some massages (throughout the years I've become an expert) and rest, it has gotten a little more bearable. However, that doesn't mean that the pain is completely gone.

As I walked to the restrooms, I desperately tried to come up with a new place to stay tonight. I hate cheap, trashy motels. They make my skin crawl. Almost as much as Nick does..

After quickly fixing up my makeup so that my bruised face stayed hidden, I walked back out into the sea of teenagers. My phone buzzed in my pocket but I waited to get around the corner to look at it.

As soon as I read the message, my heart skipped a beat. Not in a good way.

If you think you can snitch like that and not get punished, you're dumber than you look. I swear you'll regret you were ever born. Snitches get stitches. Remember that.

I felt the sweat from my forehead run down the side of my face. It was clear as day who sent the message. The question is...what did I snitch? And also, is he ten years old? At least that's the last time I've said the phrase 'snitches get stitches'.

***

I had three missed calls from Officer Tyler Hunt. After Nick's threatening text, I knew exactly what Tyler wanted to talk to me about. He knows that I'm being abused. He knows why I was limping...and he knows why I got terrified when I saw Nick at the hospital. The question is, how the hell did he find out?