Once we get inside the restroom, I look at myself in the mirror, my hair is braided to the side, light gray sweater, black skirt and gray tights. I feel confident.
Suddenly, my side collides with the wall beside me. My arms reach to steady myself as I look up and see Donna standing in front of me with her lips curled up in a snarl. “You really thought that just because you’re rich, we will take you in with big arms outstretched, huh?” I shake my head frantically “oh, no, no, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, I-“ her legs kick into my side as she bends down and grabs my braid. I wince in pain, grabbing onto her arm trying to ease it as the rest of the girls come in and lock the door. They’re all grinning.
“Please, stop, I wasn’t trying to be rude.” Donna slaps me across the face as Stacey mimics me while the third girl laughs.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I-I just wanted us to be friends, w-what did I do wrong?” I plead
“Wow, she’s pathetically alone.” Stacey scoffs
“Are you crying for rich mommy and daddy to come help you?”
They grab my bag, take out all my stuff and run out of the restroom giggling. I stay on the ground, hugging my legs to my chest.
I’m not sure how long I stayed there. Grabbing my empty bag as I walk out of school silently, not daring to look at anyone.
“Elsie?” A voice I recognize too well calls out.
He stands in front of me, taking me in. His gaze lands on my dried tears and slightly reddened cheek, his jaw clenches. His thumb brushes under my eyes. “Who did this?”
He doesn’t ask me why I’m suddenly in school. No, he asks me this.
We sat in the courtyard at the benches, his water bottle in my hand as he insisted I drink some. I told him everything that happened and why I’m here. He listened to every word and nodded every once in a while.
“Clay, am I pathetic or desperate?”
He chuckles, “I can think of a hundred words to describe you right now, and trust me, none of them contain pathetic or desperate.”
Clay sneaked in at night and slept over as we watched a show together. When I woke up, I decided to stay home without explaining why to my parents and they didn’t pressure me to explain but dad looked murderous.
Clay left early in the morning while I’m asleep as usual. I flip over in my empty bed, something grazes my arm under the pillow. I sit up and reach underneath.
A piece of neatly folded paper is hidden.
It’s a handwritten letter with one hundred words describing me.
You’re beautiful.
You’re lovely.
I grin.
Chapter Eight
Clayton
The present
The axe pierces the trunk of the tree as I huff, the fireplace wood ran out and I had to restock. Throwing the axe onto the ground as I catch my breath. Swiping the sweat over my forehead, my house stands tall on a hill beside a lake. A lake I remember too well.
I built this house brick by brick, using all the money I made since I was a kid selling the drug I invented and had all the town in my chokehold.
Addiction is a disease that slowly drains your life with pleasure. Making you believe that you’re on top of the world but your life source is empty, it’s all temporary till you realize you’re nothing.
I have watched every single miserable soul in this town, surviving each day with smoke, drugs and even blood. Studied their brains and how humans crave purpose in their life. I made a purpose for them.
They thought being quiet, reserved and walking by the shadows is weakness.
Fools.
