Whitney’s words wrap around me like cold chains, making me stay locked to the ground. My throat dries, and I clench my hands so tight my nails dig into my palm, even the bandaged and casted one throbbing with pain. I don’t answer her. I can’t. My voice wouldn’t even come out right now.
I have no idea why. Every other person had backed off, and for a moment, I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I'll be let off today.
Whitney’s group slowly circles me like vultures, their faces painted with fake pity and mocking grins. One of them, Sabrina, leans forward and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘I heard you were showing off your cast and bandages to Jonathan in the hospital. Was that your grand plan? Play the weak little girl to get his attention?’
‘Did you know that, Whitney?’ She
