Tortured Whispers by Danielle James

Author:Danielle James [James, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-24T23:00:00+00:00

Brooklyn…

The end of the school day crept up slower than a goddamn sloth. I wanted out of San Marino High School. I wanted to get away from the scratchy way everyone’s presence made me feel. I wanted to cover my ears and shut out the constant drum of noise created by useless conversations.

I wanted to be back at home with Cease.

He was my safe haven.

He was my protector.

He was like a lion and loving him was just as dangerous.

I moved through the hallway toward the main doors when I heard someone shouting. “Hey! Wait up!” I slowed my pace and glanced over my shoulder. Surely nobody could be calling out to me. I was invisible. A nobody amongst somebodies. I didn’t even fit in enough to stand out. I just disappeared.

I froze when I saw Ashley jogging toward me. I paused in the middle of a rush of students making their way out of the school and I got knocked around.

“Move! Stop being so fucking retarded!” A deep voice grunted at me and I cringed. I hated that word. Fucking loathed it. My skin crawled whenever it was hurled at me. I shrank my shoulders in and tucked my chin.

“Fuck you, asshole!” Ashley shouted at the guy then she flipped him off and put her hand on my shoulder, moving me off to the side. “Sorry about that. Sometimes these motherfuckers are rude.” She adjusted her bright pink book bag on her shoulders and smiled at me.

Why wasn’t I pretty like her?

“So, um…Brooklyn, right?” She asked.

“Yeah,” I whispered. My eyes darted around then landed on the shiny tiled floor beneath my feet.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened in ninth grade. I was being such a bitch. We graduate this year so I wanna make it up to you. Friends?” She held out her hand and I studied the smooth skin on her forearm and wrist. Not one cut. Not one tortured whisper leaving a scar on her pale skin.

My throat constricted and my cheeks flushed with heat. I was such a fuck up. Why did I scar up my arms? They used to look normal Ashley’s once upon a time.

“Hey, Brookie. Friends? Let me get your number so I can text you. We can hang out.” She grinned at me and held out her hand again. I looked at it still mesmerized.

Did she say she wanted to be friends?

All I ever fucking wanted were friends. I nodded my head and shook her hand. I was immediately self-conscious of my long sleeves and thumb holes. What if she felt that the bottom of my sleeve was damp? She’d think I was gross. I should have given her my other hand.

So fucking stupid, Brooklyn.

I reached in my pocket and grabbed my phone. It nearly slipped between my fingers because my hands were slick with worry. With shaky fingers, I put Ashley’s number in my phone.

Hers was only the fourth phone number in my contacts. I put my phone to sleep quickly and shoved it back in my pocket, avoiding Ashley’s gaze.

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