Three's A Crowd

The bathroom was empty; surprising, considering it was right after lunch and most of the students would be reluctant to go to class. Much like myself, staking out in the bathroom, waiting for just the right time to start wailing on myself. I didn't care in the slightest how I looked; only that I looked worse that Karofsky. If I looked even the slightest bit better, my plan wouldn't work. As much as I hated the idea, I had to play the damsel in distress.

After about ten more minutes, I turned my mind to the past. The days where I would beat on myself for so many reasons, that almost none of them could be remembered. I removed my cropped jacket carefully, taking great care not to jostle my bad shoulder; an old injury that could feel fresh on a bad day. Standing in mt tee and jeans, I stared at the ground for a moment, wondering if I was willing to destroy a perfectly good shirt for a good-for-nothing ass like Karofsky. It took me all of three seconds to know, yes, it really was worth it.

I dropped to my knees, digging through my bag in a desperate search for my mascara and lip gloss. With those and a few other items laid out in front on me on the tile floor, I sat cross legged and thought. I knew what had to be done, but not the order...

Another ten minutes later, I had mascara tracks down my face, lip gloss smeared down onto my chin and over onto my cheek. Blood was rushing from my throbbing nose, down my neck, and onto the collar of my favourite shirt. There were a few scratches from the original fight still in place' a few on my face, and some on my arms that I hadn't been aware of in the first place. My hair was a matted mess from me constantly running my bloody hand through it. I had a slight limp from slamming my knee into the stall door when I opened it 'by accident'. Blood I know wasn't mine was splattered on my jeans and crusted on my shoes. Overall, I looked like shit. As if a train had hit me going at top speed, throwing me into a kennel of rabid geese.

Staring at my reflection, I let pride overcome me for a moment before I pulled the helpless, broken girl facade back into place. It was a seamless act that I had pulled many times to get out of bullshit I hadn't needed to deal with at the time. I let tears flow freely from my eyes, whimpers and sobs to escape from my throat. I raised a shaking hand up and touched my reflection, secretly smug, outwardly terrified and dismayed. No one, other than maybe Eva, would be able to tell I was acting. After all, only Eva knew my tricks. Only Eva knew my true mannerisms. Not many people know that even if I was dying on the side of the road, I wouldn't ask for help. I would never have someone see me so weak and defenceless in reality.

“Holy shit!” Jumping, I spun around, slapping a doe-eyed terrified look in place. “He got you good!” There, standing slack jawed and awed was the queen cereal bitch: Santa-something. She never looked all too jolly to me. Her parents didn't really name her all that well. Evil skanky bitch...

“And I'm going to get him back.” My words were harsh and biting, but my face never faultered from it's terrified expression. My body never uncoiled from it's defensive stance. Only my eyes showed my hatred, my loathing, my plan. Santa-something can know that I'm up to something, sure, as long as the camera's didn't catch anything discriminating to my case.
I shoved my way past her, making sure to get some blood on her uniform; just to fuck with the bitch. It was all worth it when she flipped out, screaming something about AIDS and death. The only thing it did was make me snicker under my breath as I limped towards the office, adding a whimper every so often for effect.

Getting just the intended reaction has always been liberating. It made me feel powerful, regal almost. I even let the thought of being an actress drift into my head for a moment before I shoved it back away. I was floating too high on my cloud to let dreams ruin it quite yet.

“Oh my god! Miss Kerrigan, what happened!?” The receptionist jumped from her spot and ran around the desk to help me walk towards the principals office. I couldn't be bothered with formalities; I was out for blood. Literally, after figuratively. Karofsky would regret ever messing with Eva. He would regret the day he first targeted her as his prime victim. She, of all people, didn't deserve to be treated like shit, and I would never let her be if I could do anything about it.

“H-h-he ju-just...” I broke down, crumpling in on myself in full sobs. I would have hated anyone thinking me weak, but sometimes to be strong, people have to think you aren't. As a female, people automatically assume I'm weaker. They always have, and they always will. At that moment, I didn't care; it was working to my advantage quite nicely.

“Principal Figgins!” The lady, who's name I really should know, considering how often I visit the office. Almost a daily basis; even I have my off days.

“Yes- Oh my!” I raised my eyes to see a very shocked Figgins, and an extremely confused football player. How I know he was a football player? I'd seen the ass hang around with Karofsky before. He always had a smirk on his face and a gleam in his eyes that I'd only ever seen on myself before I laid eyes on the mohawked teen. “What happened!?”

“A-at lunch-ch.” My lip quivered slightly, not in my act, but on it's own accord. I wasn't complaining; it added to my act perfectly, but the fact that I hadn't done it purposefully bothered me to no end. “H-he just ca-came at m-m-me!” I threw my weight towards the ground, fighting to hide my snicker at the collective gasp that filled the room, all eyes on me disbelieving. Even the student knew that I would never let a fight get as far as it supposedly did. He'd seen me in action before; he knows I can hold my own. The adults, on the other hand, could only see a bloodied girl sobbing in the arms of a receptionist. It's amazing how far a story could be stretched with some tears and blood.

“Who did this to you, Jezebel?” I cringed at my name, but covered it with a fearful whimper. If they saw the cringe, they would assume it was because of my attacker being mentioned.

“K-k-karofsky!” I basically screamed his name, wrenching myself away from from any reaching arms. “He wouldn't stop! That man is an animal! Something is seriously wrong with him!” I started gasping for breath, as if I was having a panic attack. Two sets of arms reached out towards me. The third set, however, was dangling at the sides of a bulky torso. Whoever he was, he knew I was faking it. Mostly. Either way, I recognized it as a threat. One that had to be disarmed as soon as possible. But I would get to that later.

“He thinks he has so much power!” I continued, gasping and clenching my sore fists. By this moment, I wasn't acting anymore. “He's drunk on it, and he abuses it!” I let out a sob, just for show, and covered my face with a hand. “He abused me because of it!” With that, I saw an opening for a dramatic exit. I stepped back, reaching behind me almost desperately it would seem to them. As soon as my hand his the door frame, I spun on my heel and ran from the building, barely dodging some straggling students headed back to class after finishing their business in the office. One of them being Santa-something; looking very pissed off. I shot her a quick glare as I passed.

Running through back streets to pass by Eva's house on my way to my own, I mentally cursed myself for hurting my knee. I knew, in the back of my mind, that it would be too fucked up to walk the next day. That means I would be skipping; leaving Eva to deal with high school life without her buffer. Silently, I whispered into the wind that it wouldn't be too bad for her.

It wasn't until I slowed to a stroll that I noticed running steps behind me. Half expecting it to be Eva coming to demand answers, I turned. Only to come face to face with Karofsky himself, purple in the face and sweaty.

“What did you do!?” He screamed, grabbing a fistful of my shirt in his meaty paw.

“I did what you deserve, you power-hungry ass-muncher!” knowing he caught the double meaning of my words, I braced myself for a blow. One that never came.

“Excuse me?” He spat in my face, leaning close enough for me to smell his lunch.

“Did you think no one knew, Karofsky? That no one saw? Well, I did!” Wrenching myself from his grasp, I heard the unmistakable sound of clothing tearing. Thinking for a second that Karofsky had turned into the Hulk, I stepped back to asses my escape routs. When instead I saw a small piece of purple fabric in his hand, I let a string of cusses pass through my lips. “Get the fuck over yourself and get ready for the worst fucking year of hell you can imagine. I'm bringing it to you.” I hissed out, slipping between a house and garage; a space to small for Karofsky's large frame to fit into.

The rest of the walk was uneventful, save for a few old ladies yelling at me about being indecent and some men int their late twenties catcalling me. After quickly flipping them off, I trudged through my front door, ready for a whole other form of hell that was sure to great me. It came in the form of a backhand to the face and screamed profanities. He wasn't drunk, I knew that. He had never hit me when he wasn't drunk before...

My world came crashing down around me for a moment before I quickly gathered it in my arms and threw it back up. Nothing about my family will ever get me down and keep me down. Not after the shit that's sure to come at school whenever I bother to return.

After crawling around my father's pissed off sober form, I slunk into the basement; locking the door and propping a chair under the knob. Before I slipped into my bed, I turned off my cell and pulled a can of beer from under my bed. I needed something to stop my mental, physical, and emotional pain. Where the emotional pain came from, I was unsure, but it was there, and I wanted it gone.