Elle had seen she was back at English class and wasn’t eager to see what she would do to her for getting her suspended.
“Long time, no see, waitress,” Cassandra’s high-pitched voice rang in her ears.
Vincent slung his arm around Elle’s shoulders. “I figured you would have found out that Nero told everyone not to call Elle that anymore. I guess no one gives a shit about you when you’re gone.”
Cassandra’s mouth gaped open then quickly shut as she took a step forward. “I heard. I just didn’t believe it. I missed four days of school—thanks to you—and you somehow think you’re the queen?” Cassandra looked Elle up and down, laughing hysterically. “You’re wearing the sweater my mom tossed into the Goodwill bin last month. You’re a trashy, little waitress, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
As Elle looked at the deranged face on Cassandra as she laughed, she wanted to run and get the stupid sweater off her body.
“And you’re just a slutty, little whore who is jealous that your tits weren’t able to fill the sweater out.” Vincent laughed in her face. “I thought it looked familiar, but I guess I’m only used to seeing you without clothes and on your knees.”
Elle couldn’t believe her ears and was shocked beyond belief while Cassandra looked like she had just been punched in the face.
Vincent pulled Elle to move along as he threw his final blow. “Come on, Elle. Don’t worry; no one will recognize the slut’s sweater on you. We’re all used to seeing her naked and swallowing.”
Elle moved with Vincent, still stunned. She looked at Chloe, shaking her head and wondering if it was real, too.
“I think that might have been a little harsh.” Cassandra had never been treated like that in her life. She despised Cassandra, but Elle didn’t wish her own life upon her.
“Sweetheart, I frankly don’t give a shit.”
* * *
Elle couldn’t move a bone in her body as the tears slid down her cheek. She had watched the face of the beautiful girl named Chloe kick her in the ribs. Elle had nothing left anymore, becoming numb and paralyzed by the second person in the group to beat her.
Elle had begged at first—pleaded—but it all had still led her to the continuation of the beating. So, Elle had given up, thinking maybe lying there broken would be enough to get them to stop.
The laughing still punctured her ears along with the jokes. Those had hurt just as bad as the various shoes kicked at her face and body.
“Let’s get out of here,” she heard one of them say. “The bitch got the message. Good job, Chloe.”
Elle couldn’t help staring up into the gray eyes, trying to deliver her message. When Elle could no longer see her, she had known Chloe had understood.
Elle lay there, wondering how long it would take for death to come and rescue her from her nightmare. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm, red liquid start to coat her body. She knew it was coming soon. Soon, she would be free…
Elle heard the rapping of the door enter her dream. “Sweetie, don’t you work tonight?”
Elle tried to open her eyes, blinking back the wetness that had formed in her sleep.
The sound returned. “Elle?”
Elle finally saw her bedroom door before her and was able to remember where she was at. “Yeah. Sorry, Mom. I fell asleep.”
“Okay, sweetie. I was just checking.”
Elle rubbed her eyes as she heard her mom walk away. She barely remembered how she had ended up here. Finally waking up enough, she remembered the whole day. If only I could forget.
When Elle had returned home from school, she had been mentally exhausted and gone straight for her bed. She’d curled up into a ball, not being able to help thinking about the day.
Nero had given her space, never walking too close to her and staying far behind. He hadn’t sat next to her at English, lunch, or even Art. He’d sat at another table that had some football team members. At least he didn’t sit with the bimbos right in my face.
Elle admitted it had been hard seeing him again. She had grown used to being around him in the short time they’d had. For some reason she didn’t know, he had grown on her.
Now Elle had to deal with Vincent. He wasn’t bad. Okay, he is terrible, but there’s worse. Elle was glad he had been there when Cassandra had found her; otherwise, she wasn’t sure what would have happened to her. He had taken her to and from classes with no one giving her any trouble. That, she was thankful for. Furthermore, even though she would rather not see Vincent because of Nero, she would deal with it because he’d made sure she and Chloe were safe.
Elle rolled over, looking at the time. She needed to start getting ready for work. Tonight she had the late shift and was the one to close again.
Elle yawned, wishing she could stay in bed just a little longer. About to rise, she glanced at her bookshelf and noticed something that didn’t look right.
Elle studied the bookshelf that was jam-packed and full of different things, yet to Elle, she knew something was missing from it. Elle looked at the space that used to hold her photo album. It was gone.
Elle rose up and went to the shelf, wondering if it had been moved. She went through the whole thing. Not here. Elle looked around her room. Nothing.
Elle distinctively remembered Nero putting it back on the shelf. Nero!
* * *
Nero couldn’t believe he was going to suffer through another night of watching Elle go to work as she boarded the bus. Why the fuck can’t I talk to her?