Page 151 of My Ruthless Opponent

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

My hand aches, my fingers tremble but I don’t stop scribbling on the glass window.

I reach up with my free hand and swipe angrily at the tears falling down my cheeks but don’t stop until most of the mirror is covered in black ink.

Summer stole this black sharpie from the evil boy’s bag pack and gave it to me when I asked her last night.

She might’ve seen the desperation in my eyes. Because without any word, this morning she tugged me to a corner and passed me the sharpie.

My heart is hammering in my chest. If our foster parents see me ruining the window glass, I’ll have to sleep on an empty stomach again.

It would be better than what their son does to me.

“Ra-leigh!” The evil boy sing songs.

My heart is racing as I hear him laughing with his friends.

I see my reflection in the glass that’s half covered in black ink.

My jaw tenses at the purple and yellowish bruises under my eye and on my cheek.

I still bore the bruises from the beatings Caleb—also known as the evil boy—gave me two days ago.

Caleb is the son of our foster parents. And our bully. But his favorite among all of the kids here is me.

He is thirteen years old. Five years older than me. Taller and stronger than me.

He often gets called to the principal’s office for fighting. Whenever that happens, his parents lock him up in his bedroom.

Caleb takes out his anger on us. The kids this family is fostering serve as a punching bag for their son.

The sight of the bruises boils my blood. I feel helpless and weak for not being stronger than him. I can’t match his strength. And he knows that.

He knows that I hate myself for not being able to defend myself and my friends. He knows I hate watching my reflection.

Because the boy staring back at me with a shiner and injuries slaughters my self-esteem in the most brutal way.

That’s why he makes me stand in the backyard facing the house window for hours. And I am told to not take my eyes off my reflection in the glass.

That’s why I asked Summer for the sharpie. So I could cover the glass. It was the only option I had. Snitching on him did nothing. It only enraged Caleb.

I miss Damian. He used to shield us from Caleb’s bullying but he was adopted a few months ago. And now it all has started again. This time, his torture was much worse than before.

I have a storm inside me. Every time he hits me or Summer, that storm grows lethal, grumbling and flashing angrily.

It makes me want to lash out. I want to kick and scream until my lungs give out.

No one cares about us. No one. The authorities trust the foster parents more than they trust us. We clearly have signs of abuse but they neglect it.

Summer is suffering from a toothache. They never took her to a dentist. No matter how badly hurt we are, they never take us to the doctors.

We gave up on the foster worker long ago. Because we once took a risk by telling her about the treatment we get. She said she couldn’t do anything about it to our faces.

Now, we choose to stay silent. Because even if someone were to help us, I can’t risk losing my only friend, Summer.

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