The Real Me

Chapter 16. Shadows Of The Past

Anastasia's Pov

‎The muffled sound of Nora's voice seeped into my consciousness, jarring me from the depths of sleep.

I blinked against the golden sunlight filtering through the trees, struggling to make sense of my surroundings.

We had gathered in the schoolyard to play a game, but somewhere along the line, exhaustion had claimed me.

‎“She’s so useless and a bed-wetter. The last time I shared a bed with her, she urinated in it,” Nora’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and unforgiving.

‎A chill snaked up my spine.

Who was she talking about?

A knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach, but I hesitated to open my eyes, fearful of what I might see.

‎“And this morning, her mother told her to brush her teeth. She said she did it yesterday, so today she’s not brushing her teeth,” Nora continued, her words laced with contempt.

‎Recognition crashed over me like a wave, flooding me with embarrassment; she was talking about me.

The urge to confront her bubbled inside me, but I bit my tongue, caught in a haze of confusion.

Did she genuinely misunderstand what I said this morning, or was this her way of humiliating me in front of our friends?

‎“Ewww, that’s gross. So she didn’t brush her teeth today.” Naomi chimed in, her voice light and judgmental, but her words barely registered.

‎Instead, the laughter that followed felt like daggers, each chuckle driving deeper into my already fragile sense of self.

I longed to retaliate, to expose their hypocrisy, but instead, I remained motionless, a silent witness to my own humiliation.

‎Nora’s tirade continued, but my mind spiraled into darker thoughts.

How could she be so blind to her own flaws while throwing stones at mine?

‎The voices faded into the background when a distinct call pulled me from my reverie.

‎“Anastasia! Anastasia!” The sound grew louder, pulling me back into reality.

‎With great effort, I forced my eyes open, squinting against the dimness of our dorm room.

Beatrice's face hovered above me, a mixture of annoyance and concern etched into her features.

‎“Anas!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the remnants of my dream.

‎“Mm?” I murmured, raising an eyebrow, my voice still heavy with sleep.

‎The familiar scent of our dorm—worn furniture and stale air—filled my nostrils, a stark contrast to the vivid emotions still swirling in my mind.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings from my unsettling dream.

‎“Have you seen my check belt?”

Beatrice leaned over me, rifling through my bedding as if I were her personal storage unit.

‎“Get off me,” I grumbled, pushing her away as I sat up.

“It’s not here, I haven’t seen it anywhere,” I said, my hands searching aimlessly around.

‎Beatrice’s expression shifted slightly as she huffed and retreated to her own bed.

“It’s almost time for dinner, so get ready,” she said, her tone softening.

‎I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, the cool air brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

I pulled on my checkered dress, my mind drifting back to the dream that had slipped away so quickly.

Why had I conjured those hurtful words from Nora?

‎Nora was my cousin, someone who had always been like a sister to me because she was the only family member who attend the same school with me.

After my parents' divorce, my mother moved to live with her parents, and we all settled into a family house filled with extended relatives.

All the children attended the same school, but I was the only one sent away to a different one.

‎As a child, I had convinced myself that it was because they didn’t like me, that’s why I was separated from the rest of the grandchildren.

So when Nora came to live with us and chose to continue her education nearby, I was thrilled and asked her to attend school with me.

At least, I would have a family member, a sister, by my side.

But that was a huge mistake, and I couldn’t shake the regret that clung to that decision.

Now sitting here, replaying memories that brought a bitter sting—the realization that someone so close could be so cruel.

Yet, I had grown from that painful experience.

And, as I glanced around, a sense of triumph washed over me.

I was the one in senior high school chasing my dreams, while she was stuck back in our town, apprenticing in hairdressing.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I didn’t wish misfortune on her, but still, it felt good to be ahead after everything she put me through.

“Anastasia, come on! Dinner’s about to start, and you’re still sitting there lost in space!” Beatrice’s voice jolted me back to reality.

Wow, that was blunt.

Couldn’t she tell I was a bit out of it? But I knew better than to expect empathy from her.

Beatrice only paid attention when it was life or death.

She was there when Nora said those hurtful things about me but kept silent at the time, later telling me because she thought I hadn’t heard.

Along with Priscilla, they were the only ones who had the courage to speak up and didn’t judge me for it, believing Nora’s words were nothing but lies.

I was grateful for their unwavering friendship.

I missed Priscilla, though. She was off at a different school, but we always managed to reunite during vacations back home.

Pushing aside my thoughts, I straightened my dress and grabbed my lunch bag, which contained my plate and other essentials for dinner.

Beatrice was already outside, chatting with a few familiar faces from the boarding house, all seemingly ready to head to dinner.

I tapped her on the shoulder, signaling it was time to go.

Just outside the dining hall, my gaze fell upon Gilbert, surrounded by his friends, laughter spilling from their group.

He was engrossed in his phone, wearing our school cardigan over a crisp white t-shirt.

The transformation was striking; he looked effortlessly handsome, standing confidently among them.

I wondered why they lingered outside when dinner should have started by now.

As we approached, Gilbert’s eyes caught mine briefly. He offered a small smile before looking away, and a pang of uncertainty settled in my chest.

The Gilbert I knew would have lingered, would have said something.

Was he upset with me for fleeing this morning when he wanted to take a picture?

Since I dashed back to the dorm, he hadn’t reached out, and now this silence felt heavy.

Maybe he decided I was too dull to bother with, not what he expected.

I slid into my seat, thoughts swirling around Gilbert’s distant demeanor.

I was unsettled that he hadn’t asked about me, hadn’t even called after I ran off.

'But he smiled at you', my subconscious chimed in, a voice I quickly tried to silence.

“Shut up; I didn’t call for you,” I muttered under my breath, relieved that no one at the table had heard.

I shifted my gaze to the dining hall door, waiting for the moment he would walk in, even as I told myself I didn’t care what he thought of me.

Deep down, I knew that the possibility of losing his friendship would hurt more than I wanted to admit.