Pull Out My Insides

A blush tints my cheeks as I make my way to the last empty seat in the back of the room.

"And you are?" the teacher asks once I sit down.

"Zara Randall."

I run my hand through my long, dark brown locks and let out a deep sigh, looking around the room for once. My dark green eyes catch a pair of familiar brown ones and widen considerably, staring deep into the chocolate orbs.

"Saxony!" the teacher's voice calls out, breaking Asher and I out of our staring contest.

"Here."

"Sussex!"

"Here."

A few names later, she finally finishes and gives us an overview of the lesson and what the class will be like. As the bell rings, her words are cut off and I pick up my backpack, rushing out of the classroom. But not quick enough. A hand shoots out and grabs my arm firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.

"Zara," he says angrily, trying to catch eye contact with me.

"Later," I whisper, looking up into his eyes.

He nods and lets go of me reluctantly, letting me dash away quickly. The two minute bell rings just as I make my way into the next class, French. With a sigh, I drop my backpack and purse on a free seat next to Suzanna and she looks at me.

"How's your day been so far?" she asks.

"Pretty fucking shitty," I start. "People laughing and shit. All the whispering. I hate it. And whoop-de-fucking-do, Asher's in my History class. It's like, I just can't get a break, can I?" I huff, running my hands through my hair yet again.

"Aw, it'll get better, Zar. You know people are just looking for someone for entertainment, but sooner or later, they'll find another victim and leave you alone."

"I don't know, Suzy. They've been looking at my for the past 5 years. You know how it is, you were one of them."

"But I do know that most of them have the attention span of a brick. Plus, once this year is over, they'll be gone. College or dead end jobs or whoring themselves off. But you won't have to see them again."

"Yeah, right, I'm bound to run into them from time to time. You know how small this town is, Suze."

She just gives me a look. "Just bear with me, Zara."

"Fine, fine, fine."

***

"Wir haben Angst und sind allein..." I sing whilst walking with Suzanna to our usual lunch spot underneath a tree along with the other three.

"Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein!" I finish, throwing my arms up, running over (carefully) to the tree.

"Oh, God, I shouldn't have run," I mutter, holding my stomach as the baby kicks yet again.

"You 'kay, Zara?" Mason asks.

"Perfect, Mase. Bean's been kicking me all day," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Zara, I don't see why you're in French," Suzy starts, coming up behind me, "because of how much you sing in German."

"I'm telling you, dude, it's the Rammstein. You can't listen to Rammstein and not memorize at least some of the choruses," I tell her matter-of-factly.

She just rolls her eyes. "Really?"

"Really! Listen to 'Mein Teil' and see if you can keep from learning the lyrics and then shouting 'Denn du bist was du isst und ihr wisst was es ist' once you know it," I scoff, singing the song in my head.

"I'm sure, Zara. Do you even know what the words mean?"

"Of course I do, Suzy, I'm not stupid."

"Then what do they mean?"

"They mean 'Because you are what you eat and you know what it is.'" I explain to her.

"What does that even mean?" she asks me, earning nods from the others, mesmerized in our conversation.

"Okay, so, this song is about these two guys in Germany named Armin and Bernd, and so, this guy, Armin, was a little messed up, and so he sent out this internet request asking for a well-built 18-30 year old for slaughtering, and many replied, but backed out. And then Bernd replied and eventually, they met up and so Armin cut off Bernd's dick, consensually, and they both ate it. Well, actually, my old friend told me that it was too chewy, so they fed it to the dogs. But so, after that, he killed Bernd consensually and ate his flesh. He, like, kept it for a while after that, eating it gradually. Armin was charged for murder and manslaughter--even though it was totally consensual--and he's still in jail, but yeah. That's what the song is about. Even in the intro, one of the members says the internet request in German; 'looking for a well-built 18- to 30-year-old to be slaughtered and then consumed, The Master Butcher.' So, hah. But so 'Denn du bist was du isst und ihr wisst was es ist' means 'Because you are what you eat and you know what it is.'" (Read AN)

"Holy shit," is all she says, her eyes wide.

"Is that for real?" Henry asks.

"For real. I'm not shitting you."

"But... why?" Suze asks.

"Why what?"

"Why would that guy want to cut off some guy's dick? And why did the guy consent to it and consent to his own murder?"

I shrug. "My old friend told me that he always wanted a brother and his dad took his brothers or something, but he always though that if he consumed a guy's penis, it would always stay with him and he would always have a brother. And I'm not sure why Bernd consented."

"That's so sad..." Stella says, earning nods from all of us.

"I know..." I reply, wincing as the baby kicks again rather harshly.

**

A few days later, I rush out of history yet again, hoping that Asher won't catch me like he did the first day. But of course, luck isn't on my side and there he is, standing right in front of me.

"Zara. We need to talk."

"Later, okay? I need to get to class."

"Fine. Meet me at the lunchroom entrance at the end of the day."

"I'll be there," I reply, dashing off before he can get another word in.

**

As the last bell rings, I pack up my math packet and head out the door, flitting quickly to my locker. Once I put my backpack in my locker and put my homework in my purse, I turn around to start heading to the lunchroom when my sight is met with a cold glare of a face so painfully familiar.

"Hey, slut," the voice greets me.

"Go away, Daniel," I tell him, trying to make my way around him.

"Uh uh uh, Zara. You're not getting away this time," he snarls, grabbing my arm.

"Just let me go. I need to meet someone now."

"And why would I do that? Plus, I'm sure that they're not missing you. Who would miss a stupid whore like you?" he growls at me, spitting in my face a little.

I wipe the spit off of my face and glare at him, trying to get him to relinquish his grip on my arm.

"Let go of me."

"No."

"Let go!"

"Shut up."

"Just fucking let go!" I plead, voice rising.

"Shut the fuck up!" he shouts, raising his arm to hit me.