Page 39 of Unspoken Truths

“Would you like to answer the question written on the board?” she asks, eyes widening.

“Of course,” I say, standing and taking the whiteboard marker from her.

Quickly finding the answer and showing my work, I hand her the marker with a small nod. I fucked up by not listening earlier, so I’m not going to be cocky. I simply know the material, since math hasn’t been something I typically struggle with.

Numbers and equations just make sense, while people are less straightforward.

“Thank you,” she says, looking surprised as I nod and return to my seat.

This is the second to last class of the day, and I haven’t had to deal with the Kings or their bullshit. I doubt that it’s because Liliana scares them, I can feel their cold stares as they try to figure me out. To that, I wish them good luck, because even I don’t understand myself.

There are days I’m not sure I even like who I am, which is something the therapist and I spoke about this weekend. We had an hour-long appointment Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Dr. Fredrick Burrows is a mild mannered man who isn’t afraid to push for an answer, but is also willing to sit in silence when I’m unsure how to give him one.

“Being sixteen is confusing enough, Rachelle,”he told me. “Add to it the fact that you’ve been attempting to raise yourself while being surrounded by trauma you haven’t processed, and I can’t call you anything other than a warrior. Keep fighting.”

So here I am, doing something as mundane as going to school when I would much rather crawl under the blankets of my bed and pretend the world didn’t exist.

This is how I fight, because what is easy for others isn’t for me.

I manage to stay on task for the rest of my class, and then pack up my bag.

“Miss Thomas, a moment please?” my teacher asks.

Nodding, I ignore the looks people give me and the snickers as they walk out, while I stand with my backpack over my shoulders. My thigh is healing better than I have any business for it to, and it’ll only leave a very thin scar. The other six cuts I’m applying vitamin E to. Typically, I want to be reminded of my cuts like battle scars, but not these.

I lost control completely, the newspaper article making me remember the way Colton felt, smelled, and leered at me, and I don’t want that feeling staying on my skin.

“Yes?” I ask politely, standing at her desk.

“I just… wanted to see how you’re doing,” Mrs. Nielsen says hesitantly. “No matter what feud you may have with the people responsible for the newspaper stunt, no one deserves what happened to you Thursday.”

“Oh,” I say, eyes widening. I wasn’t expecting that. “Thank you. I’m trying to move past it, but I’ve been having a hard time concentrating today, as you saw.”

“You clearly know the material,” she says, shrugging. “I’m not particularly worried about you falling behind in my class. Remember we have an exam on Thursday. Otherwise, you’re fine.”

Thanking her again, I walk toward the door to exit. I have a planner to remind me of my exams, papers, and everything else that I need to remember. It’s hard to believe that the school year is ending in a few short months. At least I’ll have the summer break away from this place.

Ignacio hasn’t been home since Thursday morning, and his father is fuming. He’s called him half a dozen times, leaving voice messages and texts. Emil said that his location is active, allowing him to see where he is, which means he’s not up to any ‘fuckery’, as he called it. His son is simply refusing to come home.

Liliana slips in beside me quietly as I walk into the hallway, and I catch Ignacio’s eye. He’s listening to Theo, leaning toward him as his friend speaks. I would feel badly for Ignacio if he wasn’t such an asshole. I hardly know any of them, they’ve simply decided I’m public enemy number one because I grew up in a trailer park for a portion of my life.

I’m sure there’s more than that, but I’m not about to ask.

“You look tired,” Liliana murmurs as we walk.

“I am,” I grunt, feeling as if I’m being trailed by my jailer. Today is wearing on me, and I’m grouchy. She doesn’t deserve my annoyance since she’s been nothing but wonderful.

Thursday scared her, and I know that. It’s nice that she’s not running away screaming; however, my stepfather gave her a job to do that she’s very diligent about. It’s making me feel a little stifled. I can’t wait to get to my bedroom, lock the door, and take a nap.

There aren’t any razors or blades in my bathroom, and to be honest, I’m not currently interested in them either. Cutting happened in a moment of panic and despair, and I’m not currently in that space anymore. The moment has passed. Even though I wouldn’t say I’m stable by any means and my thoughts don’t still feel spacy, I’m not in danger of suicide or self-destructive behavior.

“Fuck this,” Liliana sighs, grabbing my hand and pulling me along.

“Where are we going?” I ask. Passing dark wood, high ceilings, and a pompous chandelier, I follow her down a narrow hallway to a bank of stairs.

“Somewhere most people don’t know about,” she mutters. “Up you go.”

Liliana pushes me ahead of her, spanking my ass. Hissing in surprise, I bite my lip as things tighten inside of me that I wasn’t expecting.

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