Devoured by his Enemy Eyes

The Big Break

Dian's POV

Seven weeks after the burial…

“rrrrrrrrrr! rrrrrrrrrrrrrr!,” the school bell peals indicating the end of another horrible school week. I shuffle with the crowd of students gunning for the door with my head covered in a black hoodie. I'm almost at my once shiny locker–now marked and tattooed with words like stalker, psycho, four-eyed creep– when I hear Justin Kingston from the far end of the crowded hallway. He throws an arm around Claire Eastwood's shoulder, his hands flirting with her breasts that mysteriously grew into a C-cup over the summer holiday. He pulls her head in for a kiss but she turns away at the last moment with a shy smile.

I want to vomit.

I realize they're heading in my direction and make a U-turn with a composure I don't feel but luck isn't on my side.

“Hey, it's the four-eyed stalker!” Someone hollers.

I freeze and the entire hallway bustling with kids keen to leave school suddenly quietens.

I can feel everyone staring at me and then Kingston ices the cake, “Hey, creep! You're supposed to be a hundred meters away from me, according to my restraining order.” From the corner of my eye, I see him pull out a laminated piece of white paper from his bag, confirming the rumors spreading in town.

A buzz lights up the hallway and disgust is evident in their expressions as everyone glowers at me.

“Why the hell are you still allowed to school here, Beat it, psycho!” Claire snarls.

Soon, everyone is yelling, “Psycho! Psycho!”

I get shoved and pushed until my glasses are knocked off my face and I trip over someone's leg and fall hard on my ass. I reach for my glasses just as someone crushes it, I see Lisa Turner's boot grinding on my glasses. Claire Eastwood stomps on my outstretched hand and I snatch it back with a yowl of pain.

I try to fight back but everyone crowds me, staring down at me with disgust and revulsion.

I pick myself off the floor, push through the crowd and my terror, and sprint in the opposite direction, smack dab into a hard chest.

Steady male hands grip my shoulders and I look up but my sight is blurry from my tears and my long-sightedness.

“T-tank y-y-you,” I say to the blurred face.

“You shouldn't.” A deep gruff voice answers.

He takes the hand Claire stomped on–now swollen– and places something cold on it.

I jump at the feel of the cold thing but relax slowly.

“Come on,” He tugs me into an empty classroom and sits me on a chair.

Suddenly, I can't breathe and my heart hammers twice as fast in my chest. I clutch at my chest, pounding it with my fist to make it function better but it only gets worse. Dark spots start dancing behind my eyes and a loud whirr fills my ears…

“I can't breathe…” I wheeze.

“Count backward from one hundred.” He orders calmly, sounding bored at my plight.

I obey mindlessly and my eyes are dry and my heartbeat is regular as I reach number thirty-four.

“What's your name?” I ask to distract myself.

He stiffens, “That's not important.”

From his voice, he shouldn't be more than a year older than me.

I tilt my head to regard him,“ What'd you mean?”

He abruptly drops the cold thing, “It means what I said. It doesn't matter.” he grinds out.

He paces to the classroom entrance and his features become less muddy.

Full inky hair, lean muscles, very tall, nice butt…

“You're right.” He says quietly.

“Huh?”

“Your parents shouldn't have died that night.” He shakes his head, coming back and I glimpse his sharp cheekbones and black eyes before his face is blurry again.

He's saying something but his words are sharp like a butcher's blade, “No, he wouldn't have died if you weren't so f*****g stupid!”

His words slice through me but he's not done, “You know what you did?” He barks out a harsh laugh, “You killed him… You killed your father. ”

“That's not true!” I protest, my voice cracking, “It wasn't my fault!”

I didn't mean for it to happen.

But he ignores me or maybe he doesn't hear me and says, “Killed by his daughter… Killed by his own blood…”

“That's a lie! I loved my father! I loved them! I didn't do it! I didn't do it!” I cry weakly.

With a smirk, his head tips to the side, “ … how fitting for him.” he says and walks out.

I sit alone in that classroom for the remainder of the afternoon and head home long after my hand is back to its normal coloring and size to see card boxes stacked in different corners of the house.

......

“What do you mean, Manhattan?” I storm after Aunt Sherry who enters my parent's room and starts putting things into an empty box.

“Stop packing!” I throw the half-full card box across the room, it crashes against the wall and drops with a thud.

Aunt Sherry lets out a horrified gasp, “What's gotten into you, Dian?”

“I'm sorry.” I crumple on the bed, tucking my hands between my legs to hide their shaking.

I feel the bed dip as she sits beside me and tugs my shaking hands into hers, “We can't stay here, Dian.” she says gently, rubbing my palms against hers.

“But we just buried them, I– I can't leave them. You understand that, don't you Aunt Sherry?” tears clog my throat as I hold her gaze.

“I'm sorry Dian, I wish we could stay longer.”

I clasp her hands, “But we can, Uncle Will's rich! He can buy the house, can't he?”

Her eyes hold so much sorrow, my heart breaks all over, “It's not about the house darling, your school called again.”

I tug my hands from her tight grasp, “That's nothing to worry about, Aunt Sherry.”

She lifts my chin and peers into my eyes, “It is something to worry about, Little Dee.” I bristle at the nickname.

“They bully you, Dee. They're calling you horrible names everywhere in town, and with the dismissed lawsuit, now's the best time to leave.”

“Yeah, well they're not wrong,” I mutter.

“Yes, they are. It was not your fault Dian Josephine Fibarthorn.” She admonishes.

I throw my hands up, sick of all the therapy, and positivity talks.

“But it is!” I shout, startling her, “It is. If I wasn't so selfish they'd still be alive.” I stand up, my cheeks heating all of a sudden, “If I didn't mute their texts, they'd be here and you'd be in Manhattan… If I wasn't so hung over a boy who turned me into his crazed stalker… If only I hadn't missed curfew, I'd have Mom and Dad with me, right here! Not you! I don't want you!” I run into my room and slam the lock in place.

It's all my fault.

Everything is my fault

They died because of me

They're gone because of me

Self-loathing eats at my heart, my liver, my freaking will to live as tears and snot stream down my face. With a frustrated growl, I smash everything I can lay my hands on until my room is a pile of broken wood and gadgets. Exhaustion kicks in and I slip under the bed covers.

I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and a plan to start over. I find Aunt Sherry sipping hot coffee and staring out the kitchen window.

She turns and sets down the coffee pot and comes over to hug me, “How was your night?”

I breathe in her coffee scent that reminds me of Mom before I step away, tears stinging my eyes, “ For one, I have a bit of a headache from all the crying,”

She immediately draws out a chair and nudges me into it.

A tablet is placed in my hand which I down with a sip of the warm water she sets beside me.

“More,” she urges and I empty the cup into my stomach.

“I'm sorry about last night, all the yelling and the stuff I broke and—”

“I understand Dee.” She says softly.

“I didn't mean those words, I love you Aunt Sherry and I'm grateful you left Manhattan to be here with me, right now.” I reach over and hug her.

We hold onto each other and she says quietly, “I also wish they didn't die, I wish I didn't have to be here except during Thanksgiving, prepping ugly naked turkeys…” I snicker at the fond memories.

She looks me in the eye, “You shouldn't beat yourself up, sometimes bad things happen to good people,”

I nod, my eyes watering again.

“Good, and you should listen to me because I'm a medical expert, so I know these things, yeah?” she gives me a gentle nudge.

“Yeah,” I say, nudging her back with a smile.

“About moving to Manhattan… I'm cool with it.” Her smile breaks through the roof as she pulls me in for another hug.

“But what about school— ”

“We've handled your transfer papers, you'll resume next week… ”

“Okay,”

It's like she's in my head because she adds, “.... your Uncle and I signed the adoption papers last night, how do you feel about… Josephine Dukes?”

Finally, a new start…

My smile is watery as I reply, “That'd be… nice.”