Silence(Alexandra Craig) It was a long day, she was thinking. Funny, what that saying meant. Every single day had twenty-four hours in it, and yet some days it felt like every sixty minutes was actually hours. Funny, she thought sarcastically. When you were enjoying yourself, time seemed to fly by. But when something bad happened, or you were bored, time slowed down dramatically. But what was time? It was something we, as humans, created. There was the way the earth was made – with summer, fall, winter and spring. But then, they ease into one another. The seasons didn’t decide one day that there would be switch. It doesn’t go, “okay, today is winter” and suddenly, there’s snow on the ground. So, why do humans do it?

It seemed to be engrained in our nature, etched into our very beings. We have a need to organize the world into sections, sections and more specific sections. A day has twenty-four hours, consisting of sixty minutes and within one minute there are sixty seconds. We organize, group, split things up in manageable, learnable parts. I don’t understand it. I never have.

The date was not relevant, neither was the time. The class was an hour and a half long, and I thought I would die of boredom. I’m not smart, mind you. I’m under the average for marks, though most wouldn’t believe it. I don’t understand how school is supposed to work. It doesn’t show you how much you’ve learned, it shows how good you are at memorizing; something I could not manage to do. The reason the class felt so long, though, was both the teacher’s and my own fault. There were people in this class that I talked to, of course, but I didn’t like them. That was no surprise, though. I didn’t like a lot of people; the way your words can be twisted to make you seem like a horrible person, the way everyone talked behind their friends backs, the looks people give can kill a person. The teacher, an older man with a balding head and gray eyes, was writing definitions on the board. He allowed us to bring iPods and cell phones to class; I’m guessing because even he realized the class was boring.

The bell rang, finally, and I heard my name called over the announcements. I frowned. My parents hadn’t said they were coming to pick me up, and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would be here to pick me up or see me. Unless …

I hurried to my locker, a knot forming in my stomach. It couldn’t be; he wouldn’t come all the way from his own school. He had no ride. My name was called a third time as I made my way down the stairs to the attendance office, feeling sick to my stomach.

We’d gotten into a fight that morning because I’d chosen to study for a test then night before, rather than spend time with him. He lived five minutes away, so we saw one another every day after school. He’d been getting much more physical during our fights; spraining my wrist and leaving bruises on my arms, legs, my back. It was usually one-way arguments, with him telling me what I’d done wrong, not allowing me to defend myself. He was angry with me, more often than not. My grades were falling because I rarely had time to study or do homework, and lunches were reserved for friends, since that was the only time I was allowed to see them. I’d just wanted one night to myself, to get caught up with my schoolwork and just have some alone time. He refused to talk to me, before thinking tI was cheating on him. He’d been calling nonstop all morning, screaming profanities at me. As a result, I left my phone in my locker; a huge mistake, obviously. There were eight missed calls, twelve text messages and a voicemail.

I walked slowly, dreading the moment he would lay eyes on me. Time was going by too slowly, and my stomach lurched at the thought of his eyes; those angry, disappointed green-gray eyes that haunted me in my dreams. It was school, though. What was the worst thing he could do? He wouldn’t dare to lay hands on me. But then I remembered.

A month beforehand, he’d come to my cheerleading demo. This was where all the teams would go to showcase their skills and try to convince others to join their company. Many different companies came. Everyone from boxing, wrestling and karate to art clubs and dramatic arts clubs. I’d asked him to come, as I’d never shown anyone my own abilities. I’d stayed at a friend’s house the night before and he’d convinced himself that I cheated on him with her older brother.

When he showed up at the demo, I`d had no idea that he was angry with me. I was happy to be with my team, and I assumed he was, too. As soon as I laid eyes on him, though, I knew I`d done something wrong. He took me aside, although still within view of everyone in the company. I thought for sure that someone would step in and stop him from grabbing me, shaking me, growling in my ear. People stared, even pointed at us, but nobody approached us.

I knew that what he did to me was wrong, but since he`d done it in front of people and no one cared, I figured that would always be the case. So the times he hit me, I never told anyone. And by the time he`d attempted to kill me, I was too good at hiding it to let it escape my lips. I stayed silent.

I came to the doors of the Attendance Office, and saw him. His hair was tucked under a baseball cap, his skin till tan from the summer we`d spent together. His jeans were worn down, and the sweater fit just right. His eyes, though, were what got me. I’d seen them that dark only twice – once when he’d dislocated my shoulder and again when his hands were on my throat, squeezing my breath away. I took a step back as he came barreling through the door.

“Outside,” His tone was sharp, giving me a push towards the front doors, “Now.” A lump formed in my throat, making it painful to swallow. I put my head down to avoid eye contact. Those eyes would kill me. Wrapping my hands around my abdomen, I went to the doors. We’d not taken two steps outside when he placed his foot in front of mine. I nodded slightly and stayed still, waiting for him to rip into me. Before he could open his mouth, though, a man appeared. He took one look at us, before shaking his head, “Is there a problem, here?” He said, his voice worried.

“No, sir. Just talking.” He explained, his voice soft and polite. The man shook his bald head once more and then turned to open his car. It read, ‘student driver’ on the side, with a sign on the top saying something about drivers ed. Two girls were already within. We moved down the sidewalk, so that we were behind the vehicle.

A whimper escaped my lips and he glared at me, swearing loudly. He stepped in front of my once more, and I cringed, my head ducking lower, “I can’t believe you. You’re pathetic, thinking you could do this to me.” His face was lowered to my level, one of the problems with being so short, and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. He was twice my size, both in height and weight, which was both overwhelming and scary. He used this to his advantage, of course, squeezing my shoulders tighter to force me to make a face. He could tell I was hurting, and enjoyed it.

The bald man came out of his car, slamming the door and making me jump. He came right up to us, putting himself in between us, eye level with the boy in front of me, “You lied to me,” The man growled, putting a protective hand on my back. The man placed a finger on the guilty boy’s chest, pushing him lightly, “You said there wasn’t a problem here. ‘Just talking’ was your exact words. I know people like you. My dad beat my mother, and I won’t stand by and have it happen to this young lady. If I ever see you lay your hands on her again, I’ll call the cops. D’you understand me?” The bald man lowered his hands, and for the first time since I’d known my boyfriend, he looked scared.

I became worried. Should I be scared, too? Was that man really going to call the police on him? What would they do to me? It was my fault. If I hadn’t made it seem like there was the possibility of my cheating on him, he wouldn’t get so angry with me. If I was a better girlfriend and didn’t choose other things over him, he wouldn’t be here, having am an threaten to put the boy I loved in jail. I felt a stab of protectiveness over him, but I kept my head down.

The man left us then, going back to his car and waiting for several moments before pulling away from the school. I was shaking as he put his arm around me, guiding me to the benches at the side of my school, “How’d you get here?” I wondered aloud, the first thing I’d said the whole time.

“I have a friend waiting for me to finish our talk. Mom knows I’m here, she said I could skip class.” He was playing with my hair absently, and my stomach flopped. He was truly something.

I remembered the first time he hit me, three months before. I had a friend over, and stopped messaging him back. He came to my house and lost control of himself , flinging his hands around and somehow managed to catch my eye with his ring, leaving a welt. He cried, and I comforted him. I remembered how, for days, he’d apologized and promised it would never happen again. He never did hit me in the face, again, choosing other spots to take out his anger. He just wanted to scare me into doing what he wanted, and it always worked.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, “You know that, right?” I managed a nod, the lump rising up again, “I don’t like to hurt you. You just make it so damn hard to keep me calm. You’re really hard to love, sometimes.” His voice was thoughtful and I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, or bad, “I’m sorry that I overreact sometimes, but you’re so secretive all the time, and you’ve never done homework before, so it was suspicious. You know how I am, with my trust issues and all,” He took my hands, angling his body towards mine, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our two vice principals approaching us with caution. I brushed the hair out of my face and stood, my boyfriend doing the same, “I’m afraid we have to ask you to come with us.” The female principal said, and the sound of her voice made me flinch. She noticed this because she began talking in a small, soothing tone. I recognized this, as it was how people spoke to me when I first woke up from my nightmares, when I’d been screaming and crying out in my sleep. “It’s nothing bad, you’re not in any trouble at all.” She said to me, but I just looked at her blankly.

We were in her office in moments, and I kept my head down, hands around my stomach, “Well, first of all, I’m Ms. Cren, the vice principal here and this is the other VP, Mr. Mellowm. We’re just curious as to know what you’re doing here. We must inform you that visitors aren’t allowed on school property. We just like to ensure our student’s safety.” She spoke quietly, although I couldn’t help but cringe away from her voice. Mr. Mellowm stood beside her, arms crossed.

And so, the story was told. He’d only come to say hello to me, due to his “spare” class. There was a slight misunderstanding with a man outside the school, causing students to become uneasy. He gave them a fake name, and told them it would never happen again. I stayed silent, scared I would reveal that he wasn’t telling the truth. While he spoke, the principals wrong things down. I sunk down lower when they asked him to please leave the property and not let this happen again.

The moment he left, the female turned her attention to me, “Is there anything else I should know?” I shook my head and she did the same, “If you’re in an abusive relationship and you need to get out, you know there is help out there. You can talk to an adult you trust, or the police. There is a way out.”

I felt my eyebrows rise, and then I cleared my throat, “He’s not like that.” And she nodded and sent me on my way.

But he was like that. He wasn’t as bad as some guys were, but our relationship wasn’t healthy. I sighed and then realized that I really was tired of this feeling. I was scared all of the time. One wrong move, one words and I could set him off. My anxiety was a constant, as he could come to my house at any moment, and do what he wanted. I had no control over my life anymore, wasn’t allowed friends or to talk to anyone that he didn’t approve of. He’d now invaded my school, making it that much worse. I didn’t want to be with him, but I needed to. I didn’t know how to live on my own anymore, as I didn’t do anything without his permission for months. He lived my life for me, controlled everything I did. I wanted out. I needed out. So I did the most logical thing I could think of.

“Mom?” I said into my phone, “I need to talk to you about something.”

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