A Light In His Black Hole

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Chapter 3: Perfect Victim

Rose

The next morning dawned bright and clear. The sunlight cascaded through the blinds of the window above my bed. It was 8′o clock. Both me and Daphne had actually set the alarm for 7′o clock but, since we slept quite late last night and spent a lot of time talking, we didn’t really feel like waking up. Daphne’s alarm sent out an extremely annoying and deafening ring I have ever heard. I nearly stuffed my five throw pillows into my ears but Daphne angrily threw the alarm clock and it stopped ringing. And that was the end of the story for Daphne’s alarm clock. Luckily, my phone had been set to 8′o clock in the morning from the very end of my high school year and the beginning of my holidays. I had forgotten to reset it and so, was safe.

Our class starts at 9′o clock and we had to hustle like nobody has ever known before. I think I displaced my upper jaw just by brushing my teeth a little too hard and fast. Daphne set out to toast bread and was busy applying Nutella on it while I was preparing coffee. We gobbled up our breakfast and quickly went to our rooms, widely opened our closets to choose our dresses for the day. Daphne chose to wear black jeggings, a white lacey crop top paired with black boots. I decided to wear calf-length dungarees with a mint green lacey shirt underneath paired with blue canvas sneakers. We both turned around and gazed at each other from top to bottom.

“Girl, you’ve gotta mean sense of fashion! I mean you put together casual and professional look and the colour really compliments your skin!” Daphne exclaimed.

“Well, what can I say, it just comes naturally y’ know?” I jokingly said with a British accent.

“But there is one slight problem, we’ve both got bags that can hold an entire supermarket under our eyes...” said Daphne.

“I have the perfect solution. Just take a little bit of concealer, apply it under the bags with a little bit of red lipstick and blend it. You can add a little bit of foundation if you want to make it look a tad bit more natural” I said, suggestively.

We finally got ourselves ready and spend the walking time exhausting the topic of why we needed a full image mirror by the door. Once we had exhausted the topic, I took a moment to adore the architectural beauty of the place. The boy’s dormitory curved in angle to the left only to form a roundabout of academic buildings. The entire arrangement of the colleges offering various streams of sciences was incredibly brilliant. I looked back to see the wrought iron gates, besides it were small gardens having beautiful flowers of nearly every kind. Bellington’s Institute of Pathology was located on this roundabout of Academic buildings, in whose centre stood a pillar that stood for education. The entire interior is marble and there are banners hanging on it claiming of achievements and contests and other such things.

My first period was with Mr Wilson, our biochemistry teacher for the next four years. Daphne, however, had a class in Pathological science 1, taught by Mrs Avery. We promised to meet each other at the end of the day.

The classroom was in the structure of an amphitheatre. Rows of benches grew wider as they went upwards. Some students were even there already. I propped myself down on the second row’s third bench which faced towards the teacher’s podium. I got my books out and passed the time by watching students trickle into the classroom. And that’s when I saw him. The grumpy guy who I had bumped into yesterday. He and his supposed friends were punching a guy outside the classroom, leaving his mouth bleeding and swollen. He was a bully, I thought. I would never ever want to get involved with him because I was tired of bullying. I would keep my distance as maximum as possible from him.

Bullying has its own form of extensive damages to both the victim and the bully. The victim fails to see the joy in anything as the bully wipes that thought while the bully gets tired and irritated that his frustration in life is not being thoroughly vented out. I knew this because as I said, I too was a victim of bullying. Those scars, both emotional and mental, will leave only after a long time.

The grumpy guy and his goons were the last to enter the classroom. He looked up at which I immediately brought down my hoodie. The classroom was a bit chilly so I took my favourite, plain old grey hoodie with the FRIENDS logo and had put it on earlier. I pulled down firmly at the hood, hoping to cover my face. And I breathed in deeply.

Zayn

I am still searching for those eyes. I still don’t know why I am doing this but I want to do this. For the first time in my life, somebody looked at me with pure innocence and surprise. Not shock, not hatred, not fear, none of these things but it was pure innocence. I am so sure that she isn’t from Mayville otherwise the girl I met at the reception would never have looked at me like that, considering how absolutely everyone in this town knows how I am. Today too, I had a freaking argument with my dad. He can never understand as to why I am not interested in his business. Business. Of course, being wicked and killing people without a license is business now.

I searched in vain, for those eyes that haunted me last night in my dream. I knew that if any person can help me out of my hellhole, out of my pain and charade, it would be the beholder of those eyes. But I never understood as to why I believed that. Maybe it was because she was the only person that looked at me that way. Or maybe it was because I pinned all my hope for a better, more peaceful and joyful life on her. Whatever the reason maybe I had already made up my mind.

In the morning, I was in a really bad mood after the argument with my so-called father. He never understood me and never will. I vented out that frustration and anger on an idiotic nerd I bumped into on the way to class. My stepdad forced me to attend college in this freaking town because he wanted to keep an eye on me always saying that his enemies may try and attack me if I were out of this town. I swear the man wants me dead by his own hands. I entered the class, with a slow swaggering walk and I swear about 50 pairs of eyes rested on me and nearly all of them would be girls and gay guys. Some of them would be people who owed me their blood or their money. I looked up to see if there was any such person and I saw a slight figure of a girl with a plain grey hoodie that had something printed on it. She was the perfect victim for this year.


So that is the third chapter!!

To my readers out there,
Bullying is a damaging sport played on the minds of both the bully and the victim. The bully uses it as a medium of venting emotional frustration or pain and the victim attains emotional trauma because of it. Sometimes people bully others for their own personal yet sick amusement. The point is, STOP BULLYING. You destroy others as well as your minds, sanities and souls.
#STOPBULLYING
Take care and stay safe...
Love
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