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 Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 6:26 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 12:24 pm
Abuse and Cycle I miss the misery? She packed the the clothes delicately. She didn't have much anymore, thanks to her father. He had taken the ones her mother had sent her every now and again and shredded them. Took a pair of scissors to them in front of her and told her that she didn't deserve it anyways. She didn't deserve the items from her mother, or the pets they had before she left. She didn't deserve the love and care her mother once gave her. She was just a two bit money grubbing b***h.
The clothes stopped coming anyways. So did the post cards. The letters. She didn't see much of anything beyond the walls of a empty room. She had her school books, but what did they provide? She didn't care about school. She was on that path, set in stone by her parents, of being a failure. The outcast.
She thumbed over the marks on her arms. Bruises on a thin wrist from her father, who had to pick her up from her school. They were painful reminders, among others on her body, that she was too easy to break and mark and bruise. Pale skin, too thin.
Painful reminders that she was nothing more then a doll on the verge of cracking. She had stopped talking long ago, and pushed away friends. In turn, they turned on her and made her the target of bullying. She was in short, starting a trend and recycling the same old stigma at the same time.
A punching bag, a doll for others to destroy. She was, she thought to herself, just another stepping stone.
Would it be different with her uncle? She didn't think so....
Word count: 280
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2015 5:25 pm
It Doesn't ExistSolo She had hurried home, almost running to the nearest bus and thrusting her money in the machine. The ticket was hastily grabbed and pocketed as she took a seat in the only empty row and looking out the window. She didn’t see Fritz again, which made her relax only a little bit. It was….not a new feeling to her. Terrified and shaking. Though not because of fear, this time around, but because ignorance. The kindness, the touch of finger on her cheek that wasn’t meant to be pain.
She lived with Chase, and he treated her kindly but he wasn’t the type to do those things. He patted her head, once in a blue moon. She had the same reaction when he did. The tenderness was more scary, she thought, then the pain of a hit of malice.
She gripped her backpack tight and waited for the stop, when she was far enough from Fritz, that she could get off and hop onto the bus home. It left off a block from her shop, where the apartment of her own was laid out on the top, digging in the bag for keys and popping in the lock. It was followed by the slam of door and her sagging down into the comfort of her own home.
The used couches, the small tv stand and tv...The little decorations of painted model cars and some books. She didn’t have much. She didn’t need much.
She threw her bag on the couch and then went around her home with the busy work of a home. Laundry, cleaning, checking the windows...double checking the doors. Her father was stupid, but he never came into the shop, or her apartment. She was, the safest here.
And because she was the safest here, she let the day disappear. She retrieved her bag and took out the notebook, and her school books and prepared a small dinner to eat while she did homework. Her flipping to a clean page had earned a look at the sketch of herself, courtesy of Fritz and she left it open at that page.
It was, she thought, weird to look at how others saw her. Was her nose really that small? Was her bangs really that thick? Were her eyes that close together? Did she have those kind of cheekbones? She looked over the sketch with a fascination and curiosity. Fritz had been drawing her and she couldn’t even...look at him. Why did he draw her? All she had asked for was his stupid comic link.
She closed the notebook and decided that she could do the reading part of her homework instead.
But she found herself coming back to the sketch after a few moments. She gently ripped the page out and pinned it next to her layouts of cars and unfinished models. She rewrote the address for his webcomic.
She ditched homework and typed it in, reading the story. She was enthralled to the end and was sad that there wasn’t more, and more surprised that she had been...actually enjoying it.
“It doesn’t exist.” She whispered and closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the glimmer of what he had showed her, inside her heart. She didn’t believe in love, or hope or kindness. One day,...One day, it would be all the same. It’s all someones gain, at the end of day.
She reread the comic again, then looked at the sketch. “It doesn’t exist.”
Word count: 582
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Posted: Thu Feb 04, 2016 10:20 pm
[TRIGGER WARNING - Abuse] Never can EscapeSolo She locked the door after Alex left, watching until the man disappeared off into the night with the newly tuned up Hermes. A small sense of pride swelled up and she almost forgot that he was waiting for her. Hermes was, and probably would be, a pinnacle of pride for her.
But he was gone, and so was Chase, who had given her pay from the work and a small bonus for the extra hours before yawning and calling it a night.
She almost forgot he was waiting for her, like he always did, when it was night. He was a blob of shadow amongst the other shadows behind the shop, and her gaze caught the flicker of a lighter flaring up. It was followed by a small puff of smoke and she froze again. The shop was locked. He couldn’t get in without risking the alarm going off. Chase’s money was safe. The bills in her pocket though?
“You aren’t suppose to come to the shop.” She moved a bit away from the door and braced herself. Paul’s snicker was like ice down her veins. The flicker of red burn from his cigar was eyed warily. He didn’t like to harm her the same way twice in a row.
The smell of alcohol reeked worse then when he had come in before.
“Shut the ******** up, b***h.” He took a drag, “I’ll go wherever the ******** I please. If I wanna get in my brother’s shop, I’ll go in the ******** shop.” He was only an arms distance away now and he swung, slamming a fist in her rib cage. She buckled and fell to the ground and there was something sickeningly pleasing about seeing her on the ground. Where she belonged, he puffed. Just like her whore mother.
“You owe me, Regan.” He crouched down, where she laid and watched as she pulled herself up slowly. But she didn’t have tears in her eyes, and the eyes she gave him always pissed him off. Cold, dead, emotionless. Just like her b***h mom. He grabbed her hair and yanked it back, “You owe me for putting up with your s**t for as long as I did. ******** brat, stealing all my money and food.”
Food, she thought, she had stolen from marketplaces to feed herself. Money she had earned by doing stupid small jobs, so she could afford to live. But she didn’t say a word, because she knew it angered him more than when she did speak. When she gave him what he wanted, it was easier. He never hit her in places that were public unless she pissed him off more.
“That little rich kid, with his nice bike, I bet he pays you a pretty penny, doesn’t he?” He threw her head back in disgust and stood up. “Get the ******** up and stand, stupid b***h. Answer my ******** question.”
“Yes.” She replied, standing up carefully. “He pays me well.”
Paul laughed, “I know that, you stupid b***h. I know he pays you well. I bet he takes real good care of you, with him getting all defensive over you. How much you make huh? What’s he pay for your skinny a**?”
Disgust welled up as she caught on to what he alluded, but she didn’t respond. She wasn’t for sale like that, and her skills with mechanics had been her saving grace. She doubted her father would want to hear that though, and fearing that he would take her...sell her, she pulled the money she had worked so hard to earn and held it out.
“This is what you want,” She threw it at him, “Now leave.” and turned on her heel.
She should’ve known better though, because he was never done until she was crawling away. He spun her, and then knocked her to the ground, her head rang and her cheek sung with heat and pain. She barely had enough time to cover her face as his kicks reigned in hard and fast, and every blow felt more painful than the last. He didn’t stop until she rolled over and coughed, blood covering the ground. His breathing was labored, and he laughed, then slowly went around picking up the bills she had thrown at him. When he came back, pleased with the way she was curled into a small ball, he grabbed her hair once more. Tears were there now, and she looked weak and pitiful and excatly where he wanted her. Dirt under his boot.
“Don’t forget that I own you. Chase may be your guardian legally, but I am blood.” He laughed again and pulled the cigar out of his mouth, holding it close to her face so that she felt the heat of it. “I will always be your blood, and I will never leave.” He let her go and dropped the cigar in front of her, crushing it under his heel.
“I’ll be back next week.” He said and then lumbered away, “Make sure to have more than a couple hundred, Regan.” the or else lingered in the air.
She remained on the ground until the air returned to her lungs and she spit out just a little more blood. The slow climb to her stairs took everything of effort within her, and her body screamed from pain. Once she was inside, she drew her shirt up and looked at the new purple bruises over her stomach and rib cages.
She sunk to the floor slowly and started to sob, curling into ball. She would never be safe, she thought.
She would never escape.
Word count: 936
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Posted: Fri Feb 05, 2016 1:02 am
AloneSolo She called in to school and work. Chase had been informed of her call to the school, and she had made sure to follow up with a call to him. Something stupid she thought, was easy enough to lie to Chase. She had told him that she was sick and cramping. You know, that girl time. He had dropped off a little basket of get well things for her and told her not to worry, he could cover her work. It was easy she thought, because he believed her when this happened.
She didn’t usually call him to let him know, but the beating of last night was so bad that she could barely move, and she was pretty sure that her ribs were either cracked or slight fractured. Knowing that a A: a doctor couldn’t do anything and B: It would draw attention to her, she laid in the soft mattress and tried not to move.
She stayed that like for a good couple of hours, and then pulled herself up and almost screamed from the effort. Her body sung the most painful song she had experienced yet and she felt the slow burn of effort. It took everything she had to just slip out of the bed and to her feet. Slowly, as she clung to the wall for support, she grabbed the only things that could help ease the pain.
Ice packs and heating pad. Painkillers of the store variety. Bandage wraps, witch hazel cream. She double checked her teeth and at least was relieved to see none of them had been knocked out. He hit her in the face, but never enough to break anything, something he was very careful about.
But this...She drew her shirt upwards, had been the worst she had ever seen her body. As she pulled her arms up, she felt hot tears well up and tried to sniff them back. Her stomach was a thin lining of skin painted in blue, black, purple and sickly yellow. Her ribcage was the worst, and the swelling was terrible. She traded her bra for a regular sports one and started to rub witch hazel over the skin, the goop was thick and a bit smelly but relieved the fire with some coolness.
Everything she did, she did alone. Tightening bands around her stomach was the worst and she struggled for almost an hour. And when she was finally wrapped up, she made her way back to bed slowly, crawling in and placing the heating pad over it.
Her gaze travelled over the car models she had placed up, and then over the gundam ones and fell on to her smaller collection of motorcycles. Alex came to mind next, and his offer.
“I can take care of him.”
She squeezed her eyes.
“Discreetly”
She shook her head. They’d know. They’d find out. she could never keep Chase safe. Alex would fail and Paul would come back.
The fear and anxiety wrapped around her like a tightening coil on her neck.
She could feel it slowly choking the life from her, and all she could think was...Maybe that was her answer.
“I can take care of it….”
“Discreet”
“Let me know”
Word count: 537
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Posted: Sun Feb 21, 2016 10:54 pm
[TRIGGER WARNING - Abuse] Clipped wingsSolo Regan didn’t have much a of a chance to say no to the money that she knew was Chase’s prize money. And because she saw it as him paying for her services, she hadn’t argued either. After Paul had taken her money, she was left with almost nothing left to survive on. This would, she thought, pay for bills well in advance of months and perhaps she could actually get real food and even...splurge. Maybe get a new pair of gloves for work, or new boots. Or a new sweater.
The options were endless. So when Regan had been dropped off in her shop, she immediately went to put at least a third of the winnings into the till for Uncle Chase. It would be his cut to the shop, as well as pay for any parts she needed in the coming days. It still left her with a decent amount that she never had before.
She hated to think that money made the world go round, but it did and she was barely surviving as is. Since Chase had come, it was making everything look just a little more hopeful. A little more...good. Fritz would laugh at her.
She closed up the shop again, distracted in her thoughts as she made her way to the staircase to her home.
One moment, she was thinking of what sort of gift she could give Fritz for his sketch and where to find a new sweater, to seeing stars. Pain exploded through her face, and she hit the wall of the shop hard. Ringing. She could hear ringing.
No. She thought. No, it’s too soon.
The smell of alcohol all but drowned her, and she pulled herself up from the ground, using the wall as much as she could, She could see where Chase’s envelope had fallen, just right there. So close to her. Don’t see it. Please don’t see it.
The next hit came to her other side and she felt another explosion. Then the taste of rust. The hot sticky liquid from her lip...her nose. But god the alcohol still came through. The ringing never stopped.
“I saw you.” The voice cracked, “I saw you ******** on that bike, with that little rich boy.” He was shaking but she couldn’t see that. She could feel it, when he picked her up by her jacket and lifted her small frame up, slamming her into the wall. The gasp of pain and the limpness made her head roll and she tried to open an eye to look at him. “I saw you riding back with him, pleased as punch. ******** whore.” He slammed her again. “You ******** him for his money, little whore? Think he’ll take you away from this? Think it’ll make your world better?” He laughed.
God he always laughed, she thought. But she couldn’t get more thoughts than that. She was holding on to it was too soon, why was he here..what had happened to the money he had already taken.
“Little b***h, gave me chump change. dirty money. Lost it all on the game didn’t I? But it’s cause I got it from you. Stupid b***h.” She knew those words. Chump change. He had gambled it. She tried to fold herself up but her body rang with pain and she couldn’t catch her breath. “I always had bad luck because of you. Everything you touch, always ******** disappears.” Paul was breathing on her and she hated the smell but she couldn’t get the words out. Her body hadn’t healed from his last beating.
She had tasted freedom today.
Would that be the only time she would ever see the night lights whiz by her? The smell of leather and rubber and the heat of the engine between her legs and the wind whipping at her jacket.
She would only see it one time? She thought to herself, damn it Chase, why did you show her these things? Why did you show her this freedom? She was going to die, knowing that she yearned for more and she was going to die because she had.
And those thoughts scared her even more then the thoughts of death and she moved, drawing her leg up and using it to kick at Paul, push him away from him. She struggled in his grip, tears streaming and mixing with blood as she struggled for the first time in his grip.
The kick had almost made him let go, and she felt his grip weakened and used everything she had. Claws, punches, slaps...kicks.
“L..Let me go.” She said hoarsely, even as she felt the gurgle of spit and desperation. His hand finally let go and she crumpled to the ground and started to crawl away, towards the envelope that Chase had given her. To the money that would let her pick up, give her the needs and a little of the wants. To the small ounce of freedom, and the memory of it.
Her hand reached out to it, she touched the envelope. It was okay. She had it.
And screamed. The crack of a boot came down on her bony hand, and she felt the bones snap under the pressure, as he ground his boot on her hand into the ground. Then he picked the envelope up and looked inside. Whistled.
“Little daughter of mine, is this what he’s giving you for your precious little time together? This will do nicely.” He fingered the bills and laughed maniacally again as she tried to pull her hand out. “Though I wouldn’t come and get this? You don’t need this. Money’s not for little ants. Fighting back though, leaving scratches on me? I think you need to be punished again. Make you remember who owns you.” He picked her up again, dragging her to her feet and slamming her into the wall. He waved the money in front of her face where she watched, watched as he took it and put it in his jacket.
No, no that was mine. I earned it. I am going to earn it! She screamed, even as she held her hand and cradled it towards her. Her hands. She needed them to work. She couldn’t work like this. tears flowed so freely now and he made a low small laugh again.
Then he proceeded to beat her, aiming for her ribs again, her face. And when she crumpled under his beatings, and she only saw black and couldn’t feel anything more, he did it more until he was satisfied, stopping only when he was out of breath. Then he stepped back and looked at the bloody knuckles of his, looked at the now pooling blood from her. He wiped it all off on his jacket, looking around. No one saw this. But he needed to leave. He stumbled over her, one last kick to her already damaged body.
And took off into the night, tucking his hand in his pockets and joining the city like nothing had happened.
Word count: 1176
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2017 6:40 pm
SoloSolo Regan stayed in Chase’s home for three months while he was away. Three months was the limit before she realized that perhaps instead of him eventually coming back, that it was becoming he wasn’t coming back. Perhaps that was the dangers of being a general in the war? Perhaps that was the end of their pack? The only people she saw sometimes, even more rarely than normal was Prissy and Kat.
She hadn’t seen Silk, or even his twin Lace in forever. She had been like a ghost in the house. She had gone down hallways and corners. Sometimes she would linger by Chase’s room, where his bed was unmade because she knew that sometimes Prissy snuck in and slept in it. Like Prissy, Regan would sometimes linger in the room and wonder where he had gone. Like Prissy, she would touch the clothes and the bed and sometimes, when she wasn’t there, she would lay in it. She wasn’t overly emotional, she would think...but she was attached.
She wasn’t one to linger to long though, in a place where she wasn’t sure she was welcomed anymore, where it didn’t feel as welcoming. She hadn’t been close like Prissy had been with Kat, and that was mostly her fault. She was still new to this, she still relied on Chase to help her be. Be more than the scared lonely child that took beatings from her father. But Chase wasn’t here, and he wasn’t there to keep her grounded when she felt the need to flee. Flee, because unlike Prissy, Regan didn’t have the emotions to cope with a sudden segregation of him. She didn’t cry, or scream or curse or yell.
She no longer wanted to be in a empty house, where she could hear someone else not Chase...not Laby, going to his room. She no longer wanted to share the pain of being left behind with others, to be confused and scared that he was never coming back and to haunt a place that was suppose to be safe. Though it no longer felt safe….just confining.
She did, what most did, when anything was too good and was falling apart. She returned to where she came from and tried to return to the roots that had made her. Not the ones that had changed her. Her uncle offered the apartment above the shop easily enough, and he made sure cameras and locks were tight. Even more so to give her a guard dog, one he had adopted for the shop from the pound named Rusty. A middle aged german shepard that paid Regan no mind more than to eat and sleep at her feet, so she paid him no mind because he was there for her uncle...not her.
She worked again, with her hands covered in grease and her clothes dirtied with engine oils and fluids and felt a little better. She moved on a autopilot, and for a month, she didn’t wonder about Chase. At least, Regan didn’t. Adamantine though….When she felt the need to power up, would go out, to find the leader of the wolf pack. To find her Alpha. She could not be a wolf, if there was no pack to return to though.
It wasn’t long though, till her father heard of her movement of homes, back to the apartment where it was so easy to prey on her again. He waited some time, when Regan was heading to the store for groceries, with the small cash she carried because she had a bank account under Chase’s name and a card. It was safer that way, and even if he wasn’t there, he was still there with her. Things he had set up for her, to make her more...human. To bring her away from the desolate life she lived before. But her father waited, because he didn’t know that Chase had done that and how easy it would be to just take some cash again. She owed him that. She owed him a lot more. She owed him her life. Ungrateful b***h.
How quickly it all seemed to fade, as she felt pain explode from behind her. But unlike her past self, she did not crumple to the ground, dazed. No. She was Adamantine as well, and her shift to the corrupt version of herself was just as quick as the blow to her head had been. The pain dulling just enough for her to look up at the man, where one knee touched the ground. He was thinner, and wasn’t that silly to notice. He looked hollowed out, drugged up, a dead man with sunken yellow eyes clinging to what’s left. How had she ever feared him? He stared at her in confusion, because her clothes had changed, and she had changed. There was a crack in her head and in her heart, her eye's, normally clear water blue were like ice and they stung him, and he brought his hand up because it scared him.
“You stupid little girl. Did you think you could hide out for long?” he snapped his hand against her face, because that was his favorite place to hit her. She let it happen because the sting did nothing like it use to. Because, she was, in the literal sense, Adamantine. She rose from the ground, dusted the dress off. He swung again, but she had stepped out of his path. He stumbled, she stepped again. This time closer as her hand sunk into his chest. There was no Chase here. There was no Laby. He would not save her this time. She would save herself. And how easy it was to take his starseed and rip it from his chest. His eyes glazed and she had made sure it was painful as possible, but he made no sounds because just as it was painful….it was also very quick. He was not her first.
She looked at the seed, as weak and stupid as he was. She looked at the body on the ground. She left it because that was all he was worth now, and she went back to the apartment. She held the seed before crushing it, it wasn’t worth metallia’s time...it wasn’t worth eating, and shifted back to Regan. No groceries. She climbed the stairs, and she entered her apartment and she went to the small bed where, with very little guilt, and for herself, had taken one of Chase’s riding jackets, The dark leather sliding against her skin as she put it on. So she could feel him.
She sat on the bed, let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling.
And all she felt disappointment. Crippling, distant disappointment.
Word count: 1126
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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 9:30 pm
Little StarRevert back Adamantine was grateful to Dia, even as the candy senshi carried her away from the General. The stardust senshi didn’t look back, her eyes closing as they disappeared with from the dark. Eventually Dia had dropped her off back at her home (not the one with Chase) and the stardust senshi powered down. The gash on her arm soaked through her jacket and with a painful wince she moved upstairs.
It was the first time she had patched herself up in awhile. The stitches she did were quick, messy and sealed the best she could with the medical superglue. She had no doubt that a doctor would’ve done better, but at the current moment, she didn’t want to explain why she was in the hospital. Especially since she hadn’t had to go to one since she killed her abusive father.
That was something that had changed once she had met Chase.
The mere thought of the man now made her grimace and she went to her homes doors and locks. They would do little against the general should he decide to teleport in but they were a small comfort to keep him out. A new barrier against the man she had thought she didn’t need barriers against.
Dia had barely any time to explain the general’s sudden change of behavior, and the candy senshi had mentioned that the rift had done something to him, something to make him distrust and to turn almost feral. To hate the senshi, even ones that were corrupt. It was all confusing and terrible, because he was what made her what she was. To be hated for it....
Regan wanted to understand that, but her whole body sung with rejection. Tears, so rare since her childhood when she first experienced abuse, started to fall and she sobbed into the nearest object, the worn couch with its rips and holes. Between the pain that Laby had dealt and the sudden crush inside her heart, Her frame shook from the expulsion of all the feelings she felt. How could she control the very piercing of pains in her body, for being something she had no control over.
Pain, so terrible, her heart aching in a way she never knew it could again. She had been so excited to see him returned to them. So excited to see her general alive and well (mostly) after hearing of the betrayal of one of the wolves. So relieved to know that he was alive and that they could return home, all of the wolves, back to his home where he'd take care of them. She had been excited to see the man she loved, and she knew she loved him because there was no other word to explain how she had felt. It was something she did not feel for other people, but it was not the sexual kind of love. She wasn’t even sure if it was romantic, not like the movies or books or songs. It was….just there. She was suppose to be his little star and now the words were ruined. She would remember the wild look, the taste of blood and the sharp sting of his blade against her skin. Each memory of the fight hurt in a new way she didn't know that could. She had thought it'd been a test, and he had mocked her for that. She thought she could survive and he had laughed at her. She thought she could help him....She was weak and wrong.
“Little star”
The sobs began to fade, and eventually her face turned to the side, her eyes puffy and red. Small trinkets of everything she had gathered here, of people she interacted with.
Of men that were suppose to save her, but ended up hurting her. OF ones she wanted to forget.
The jacket she stole from chase's house while he had been missing, the drawing made by Fritz of her, when she had been hurt and angered. She gathered these things and took them downstairs, to the outer parts of the garage where scrap metal was dumped and parts burned. In a wore down can, she dumped everything in. She covered it. Locked it away.
She locked herself away once again. Everything that that had opened her up was gone.
She lifted her head and the tears had long faded and they were as crystal clear blue as the day she had first met Chase. The same eyes of someone who didn’t trust anyone else.
The original eyes of the Little Star.
Word count: 647
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Posted: Wed Jan 24, 2018 12:36 am
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Posted: Sun Mar 11, 2018 12:33 am
SoloNightmares Regan’s not quite tired yet. The night has barely set in for her, even though the alarm clock glows a bright green number of 1:00am. Technically it’s morning, and she wants to be up at 6:00am to make it to the car show by 9:00am. It’s one of the few yearly things she goes too, enjoying it with her uncle. It was, the few times, she thought, they really connected. That she showed something more than just her work attitude. That she was more then the quiet doll quieting in the background. She was like a kid. She asked questions. She was happier.
But she isn’t tired yet, so she tries her best to fall asleep, and she does, at the crisp time of 2:13am.
The first nightmare comes swiftly and quickly and she wakes at 2:46, sweating. Her hands clench at her neck, and then slide down to her arms and she curls up. She doesn’t cry herself to sleep, but the exhaustion comes and she is asleep again at 3:05am.
This one is more vivid. More memorable. It’s been a long time since she’s dreamed of her days at St. Mags. She didn’t think fondly of the place, for good reason. From the time she entered at 15, to the time she left at 18, the high school had been another constant reminder of her lowly standing in the world. It was filled to the brim with spiteful hateful girls. Girls, she remembered, as she walked the hallways, that did their best to embarrass and tease her. Girls, she watched, as if watching her dreams like TV, who pushed her already frail thin frame into lockers. Who popped bubbles of gum in her face like cliched teen pop bullies. Who clustered in groups of three or four.
She remembered their names too. Amanda, Ashley, Rebecca and Faith. Amanda was the leader of their little posse, their little clique. Amanda was a decent sized fake blonde with just a bit too much bronzer and eyeshadow but still managed to be pretty. She was glossy, with makeup and fashionable accessories, her skirt as short as it could go in the all girls school. Her hair was always down and curled like a halo around her face, just a bit rounder than the other girls. Ashley is a pretty indian girl, her black hair long and flowing, neatly styled with hairpins and flowers today. She’s more reserved in her clothing choice, but non the less fashionable. Rebecca and Faith are twins, freckled brown haired and mousier than Ashley and Amanda. They aren’t quite pretty, but they aren’t quite ugly. They are on the cusp of just being….what they were. Thinner, more pale. Regan remembered the quartet well, because they were the group that chose to harass her for 3 years of her high school life, while pretending to be a friend.
At least, she had thought Ashley had been a friend. Ashley knew all about Regan’s life. Ashley knew about the abuse, and the pain. Ashley had seen it. When she took Regan to the nurses station after the twins beatings had gone a little to far themselves. Afraid to speak out against her group, she had snuck Regan into the nurse’s office and stripped the pale youth and seen. She had questioned Regan, then and there. Demanding to know what was happening. These were not the few slaps the twins had dealt, these were marks of something stronger. Regan had almost stayed quiet, but she wanted to shock the other teen. To garner something from her that would make her friends stop. She told her story, of the way her father changed after her mother left. That he would drink, and then he would get violent. That she was nothing more than a punching bag, and sometimes a doormat. That she had been to the hospital countless times for broken bones, concussions and more. That no one, NO ONE, did anything for her, because when he wasn’t drunk, Paul was charming and could spin lies and tales. Tell them it was because she wasn’t careful, that she picked fights or she messed around with neighborhood boys roughhousing. Whatever his lies could slither into. He couldn’t kill her, no, she remembered saying to Ashley, who cried and held her in the nurse's office. He didn’t have it in him. Not yet.
Ashley had cried, because the bruises were so deep, deep enough to hurt the soul, bruises so deep that when the nurse came, Ashley tearfully BEGGED for Regan to come with her. Bruises that the nurse urged Ashley to be quiet about, hushing the girl and pushing her out instead, looking at Regan as if she was a monster. “Don’t lie to her like that. You girls are all the same, spinning tales”. The nurse barely treated her, barely looked at the wounds before sending her off. Reminding her that adults weren’t to be trusted either. They didn’t do anything. She hadn’t seen Ashley the rest of the day though. It wasn’t long to figure out why though. Regan had poured her soul out to the girl, but Ashley was a creature of habit and safety. The idea of befriending someone like Regan had been too much, and why would she leave the safety net she had with Amanda and the twins? Regan had expected too much.
So while Regan had been trying to get closer to her, they had been plotting ways to ruin Regan, using whatever Ashley told them. Though her abuse never came up, Ashley told them about her poorness. Why she couldn’t have pets because she was a bad caretaker, that she didn’t know modern things because all Regan did was read in the library. Amanda, who was young and self conscious and knew that if you took the grime off the white haired youth, she would outshine half the girls in St. Mags made it her freshman life to bully Regan. Point out her unkempt clothes, and her hair that was never not in a ponytail, called it greasy and disgusting, That she always had her faded shoes and backpack. That she never had lunches because she was poor and probably ate crumbs from the dumpster like a rat.
She’d walk the halls, and they would make it their point to knock her books out of her hands. Knock her around. It continued, Regan remembered, until the first month of her sophomore year. Ashley had left then, transferred to a different school or something, Didn’t matter because the three were back, and finding a bigger group. By then, she had switched from her dad’s care to her uncles. The beatings were less. Almost non-existent now that her uncle had won custody. Regan had thought it would be better (how wrong she had been). Regan had thought that she could make friends this year. Regan wanted to change that year. Wanted to do something more then be that kid. She had new clothes, and let her hair down. She smiled a bit more, though she was shy. Eventually, she had some...friends, if they could be called that. People she sat with at lunch.
The first time she threw a punch was in Rebecca’s mousey face when the girl dumped her milk all over Regan’s lunch. The first real lunch Chase was able to make for her. Her uncle was trying, and the importance of food...food that had been safe to eat meant a lot to Regan. She punched Rebecca so hard in the face, she broke her nose. Her parents tried to sue but it was St. Mags, and there was cameras everywhere. She had been suspended for a week. Chase had decided to give her a better outlet. She started working on cars. She lost the acquaintances she sat with at lunch time.
She returned to school and made the wrong kind of friends next. Girls who didn’t conform to the schools ideals. Girls who liked to fight. She became part of a small self proclaimed gang. They took Amanda out quickly, and it had felt good. Regan remembered it feeling good, when they had dragged the blonde outside the gym and locked her in the half full dumpster, laughing and calling her the rat. Who ate the crumbs now? Regan remember saying as she had been the one to close the lid. They wanted to do more though. She remembered. The gang had wanted to do more things. Things, she thought, she didn’t want to do. Stealing. Bullying. Eventually, she thought, it had been too much and she spent her sophomore year in a haze. Half of it had been the fights and gangs, half of it had been trying to disappear off the radar. Something you couldn’t do in St. Mags.
She woke from the dream at 4:36am from the memory dream, remembering that Amanda had gotten very sick for weeks after that, so much so that when she had returned to school, her skin had been ghastly and weight had been lost. Her mom said it was anxiety and depression and Regan laughed in the woman’s face. She remembered laughing, when she asked where was Amanda’s mom when she had been the bully? Shoving Regan into lockers. It was in the past. Amanda’s mom had said, disappointment ringing in her adult voice and that irked Regan. It’s why she hated adults. They could just pretend everything was in the past and they could just move on from it.
She remembered Chase, her uncle coming in and standing up for her. Telling Amanda’s mom off. Telling the school off. Telling them all off and it was the first time she actually had hope that an adult would do something for her. Chase didn’t forget her past, but he wouldn’t let her forget she could make a future out of something. She remembered at the time too, he had grounded her for three weeks, to only car duty.
She laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling of the room she shared in Chase...Her general Chase’s house.
Junior year and Senior year, she had been the target of both Amanda, who would never let her forget that she had dumped her in a dumpster, Rebecca, whose nose had been fixed with botox from their perfect mother and now distinctly looked different then Faith and the group of girls gang she had mistakenly joined and left. She had fought a lot. Then she stopped fighting.
And he had come back into her life. Reminding her that she was nothing and that she deserved nothing nice or kind or friendly. He came back to remind her that she was alone at that time. He came back to remind her that she should trust no one. Grow close to no one. He came back and reminded her that you don’t forget the past and there was no future.
An arm came up to cover her eyes and and she sighed, rolling over. The clock blinked a bright 5:32am and she rolled over again. No point, she thought now. Sleeping. She’d just have to get up soon anyways. She’d have to just have to put like concealer or something on the eye bags. At least she picked up on doing that. Chase got worried when he picked her up and she had the dark marks under her eyes. Chase, her uncle who hadn’t been a shitty adult, who had turned out to be pretty decent. One of the few adults she trusted really..
She tried to think of something better, and settled for the charity ball, something more recent. She had never danced with a girl, much less someone like Prissy, who hadn’t truly judged her. She had never been part of a clique of friends like the wolf pack.
She had never felt quite the way she did with them. Somewhere deep inside her, she just let herself hang on to that. There was no more Paul, she thought, to remind her of anything. There was just Regan. Regan would make a future. Regan was more than the past.
Word count: 2036
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