Standing like this hurts.

After Jenna and her goons attacked me, everything hurts. They cornered me in the parking lot behind the school and started to torment me. Again. One of the girls brought a bat, and the other brought a pair of scissors. I begged them to stop, I said “We can work this out!” But they wouldn’t listen, saying I was a fag, disgusting, stupid.

I cried and cried, while they hit me over and over with the bat. I cried when they cut off my beautiful hair. It used to be poofy, a giant dark brown afro. Now it’s short, and lopsided. They broke my leg, putting me in the hospital for 10 days. Now I’m back, and I can feel them staring at me. I tremble, and a wave of pain rocks through my whole body, making me grit my teeth and lock my knees to stay standing. I grip my crutches, and try not to cry out in pain.

I get my lunch, and start walking in the direction of the Art room. It’s one of the only places I feel safe. That and the closet in my bedroom. When I get there, Mr. Inesly is setting up for his next class.

“Can I eat in here?” I ask, timidly. He turns around with a start, but says,

“Of course, Samantha.” He smiles kindly at me, “Good to see you back in school. What happened?” He nods toward my leg.

“I-” I pause, if I tell him the truth, Jenna might get suspended. But if she gets suspended, she’ll come back even more mad than before. “I tripped.”

“And that?” He points to my eye. I had forgotten it was bruised.

“I hit the stairs when I fell.” Another lie. But the truth this time is that my dad did it. When I showed up at home - having walked there - with a broken leg, he came at me. Screaming about hospital fees, lawsuits, and whatever else happens when a girl is brutally injured. He hit me a number of times, but only once on my face. Then he drove me to the hospital. He told the lady at the desk that I tripped and fell down the stairs, and he thought my leg was broken.

The lady had looked worried, and glanced at me, probably noting the extremely tight grip my dad had on my arm. A grip that was cutting off my circulation. They put me in a hospital room, and then a doctor came in to check on me. Her name tag said: D.R. Fielding, and I liked her immediately because she made my dad wait outside. The first thing she said to me was,

“What really happened? I know you didn’t fall down the stairs.” She smiled, and stared at me, waiting expectantly. I shook my head,

“I did fall down the stairs.” Not exactly a lie, I have fallen down the stairs. Just not this time. D.R. Feilding looked sad for a moment, then said,

“The receptionist saw your dad, and she said he was hurting you in the lobby. This is a safe space, if he's hurting you just tell me, we will get you to safety.” I shook my head again. They can’t take me away from him, he’s all I have. She shakes her head, but drops the subject, moving on to my injuries.

She put a cast on my leg, then moved on to my ribs. I had a fractured rib on my left, and a broken one on the other side. She wrapped my ribs tightly with gauze, causing me to gasp in pain.

“Sorry.” She said quickly. She put a cold cream on my eye, giving me instant relief for the pain burning there. 

I realize Mr. Inesly has been staring at me, watching me remember. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” I say hastily. He smiles, then goes back to setting up the supplies. I sit down in the corner, and grab my sketchbook from the shelf, where Mr. Inesly lets me keep it. I open it up, and turn to a new page. Immediately I know what I want to draw. It’s been turning around in my mind since last night. I start sketching, getting into the feel of things. Before I know it the entire lunch hour has passed, and my picture is staring up at me. I take a moment to admire it.

An Angel. With wings as dark as pitch. A thorny crown encircles her head, and she holds a longsword in front of her defensively. She looks fierce, ready to destroy anyone who stands in her way.

“That’s really good.” Mr. Inesly’s voice startles me from my thoughts. He’s peering over my shoulder, looking at my Angel.

“Really?” Most people think my art is weird.

“Yes. She’s very beautiful, very strong.” Just like that I know her name.

Kwaai. I write it on the corner of my page.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Inesly asks.

“It’s her name. It means fierce in Afrikaans, where my ancestors came from. It’s a beautiful language.” 

“It sounds beau-” The second bell rings, cutting him off.

“I better get going,” I say “I don’t want to be late for class.”

“Of course.” He says, “And Samantha?”

“Yes?” 

“Stay strong. High school is tough, but stick it out.” I thank him, for letting me eat in his classroom, for giving me advice, then leave. I walk down the hallway, passing Jenna and her clique. They glare at me, but Jenna smiles, 3:05 she mouths. I shudder, I know what that means. She’s telling me to meet her after school, in the usual spot.

When I get to class it’s already started, the teacher glares at me, upset that I interrupted his class. Quietly I find my seat, and class goes by in a blur. Time ticking past in anticipation - or dread - of what’s happening after school. I’m scared. Of what Jenna will do. Of what my dad will do if I come home hurt again. Of what the hospital will do if I come back with fist imprints on me. Without realizing it the whole day has gone by, and I’m supposed to meet Jenna in five minutes.

The air is cold when I step out of the gym, I wrap my coat tighter and walk towards the narrow hallway between the science building - empty now - and the tall fence surrounding the power plant next to the school. No one ever comes this way because of the plant, so it’s the perfect place to torture me.

Stepping around the corner I brace myself, but no one’s there. I’m just about to turn around and go home when something hits me over the head. My vision goes black for a second and I cry out. When I come to, I'm sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the building, my hands tied behind me. Jenna and the twins, Stacy and Mya, are standing over me, grinning in a mean way.

I straighten my back, and pull my hands up. Curling my fingers into fists, trying to look threatening. Jenna laughs, saying,

“Is the baby trying to fight me? Poor little thing, she doesn’t know.” Stacy - or is it Mya? - laughs too, but the other girl says, 

  “Know what?” Jenna smacks her on the back of her head,

“That she has no chance, stupid.” The first girl - Mya, I think - laughs at her sister, stopping when Jenna glares at her.

  “We’re going to hurt her so bad she’ll never tell a soul.” 

“We’re going to kill her?!” Stacy looks scared, but Mya looks excited.

  “Of course not, are you dumb?” Jenna looks really irritated at Mya’s interjections.

While they’ve been discussing my fate and arguing, I’ve been slowly working the ropes off my wrists. They’re almost off when Mya says,

“Jenna, she’s trying to escape!” Jenna focuses her attention back on me, but the rope is all the way off. 

I stand up, swinging my fist into Jenna’s face. It connects with a wet smash, and her cheek starts to swell up. She screams, and her own fist smashes into my unbruised eye. Before I can hit her again one of the twins pins my arms behind my back. Jenna straightens up, wiping her hand across her mouth, where blood is starting to drip. She looks down at her hand and curses, glaring up at me.

“You’re going to pay for that!” She waves her hand towards the girl not holding me back. The girl hands her a metal baseball bat, and I cringe. I didn’t think they’d bring something like that here. Jenna steps closer and raises the bat.

She swings it down and hits my injured leg. I try to scream, but the twin holding me wraps her hand around my mouth, muffling the sound. I bite down on her hand and taste blood. The taste excites me, and I bite down again. I lick the blood off my teeth, wincing when my teeth cut into my tongue. I didn’t know they were so sharp. The girl yelps and backs  away. 

“I’m going to kill you!” Jenna starts to raise the bat again, then pauses. “I know,” A sly smile crosses her face.

“Someone told me you like art.”

 “Uh, you knew that.” says a twin.

“Oh shut up. That’s not the point.” Jenna rolls her eyes, then looks back at me. “What if I crush your hands? You’ll never make a picture again.” My eyes go wide. She wouldn’t really do that, right? 

“N-no!” I barely manage to say one word before Jenna swings the bat again. It crashes into my right hand without giving me time to block it. I scream, and tears well in my eyes. It feels like my hand is on fire. I start crying, but this doesn’t stop her. She swings again, and again. I’m screaming and sobbing, crying ‘Help’ and ‘Stop’ but Jenna won’t listen. How can someone so young hold so much anger?

Finally, I feel something in my hand split, and I hear a sharp crack. I can feel my blood drip out of my hand and onto the ground. Miraculously, the pain isn’t as bad now. I stare up at Jenna, no longer scared of her. I grin, lips pulling back over my teeth, and she flinches.

“What’s wrong with your teeth?!” She cries. Stacy and Mya back away. 

I know I should want to see what they’re talking about, but I can feel my teeth. I don’t need to see them. I bite the air in Jennas’ direction, and she flinches back.

“We should leave.”

 “Like, right now.” Say the twins.

“No! She hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Jenna yells at them.

With the twins no longer holding me back I stand, straightening my legs and back. I glare at Jenna, who backs off.  Now that I’m on my feet, I finally realize how late it is. The sun is shining in from the opening at the front of the alleyway. It hits me right in my eyes, and paints my shadow on the wall behind me. I look at Jenna and see her and the twins staring at me. Or not at me, but at the wall behind me.

I turn my head, keeping Jenna, Stacy, and Mya in the corner of my eye. On the wall behind me is my shadow. At least, I assume it’s my shadow. Where my sides should be smooth are two extra limbs. They almost look like arms, but they’re much longer, twice the size of my arms.  Above my shoulders what appear to be wings are stretched out. The edges of all these limbs are fuzzy, not smooth like mine.

I turn back to Jenna and smile, swiping my tongue over the sharp points of my teeth. Stacy turns and starts to run, leaving Jenna and her sister behind. As soon as she starts moving it triggers an instinct buried deep inside me. The overwhelming feeling to chase surges through me. Stacy has a head start, but I can feel new strength coursing through my legs. 

I take off, and quickly catch up with her. I reach out, but she’s too far away. Almost on instinct I reach out with one of the shadow limbs. It grabs onto her, and I pull her close to me.  I want to hurt her. To show her the pain that she gave me. But as soon as I have her I can feel the blood pulsing beneath her skin. I snap her neck quickly, with just a twist of my wrist. I’m about to split her open and drink her blood when I hear a choking sound behind me, followed by a rattle of metal on metal.

I turn and see Mya trying to climb the fence. Jena is staring at her in shock and terror. 

With one quick leap - and a thrust of my new wings -  I’m behind Mya.  I reach up with a shadow arm and yank her down. Again, the scent of blood deters me from playing with her. I try to be careful, but I end up ripping her entire head off. Blood spurts out of her neck, and drips down her body onto the concrete beneath us.

I should be disgusted at what I just did, but all I feel is elation. I want to do it again. The feeling of taking a life is like no other. 

I pause for a few minutes to drink my fill of her blood, then turn to Jenna. Jenna is staring at me, and when I turn to her, she starts backing away from me. I step towards her, and she turns and runs. I chase her, but don’t grab her. Now that I’m full I can play with her. When we reach the end of the alleyway she stops and pivots, running at the fence. I stop and watch, curious, as she reaches the fence and climbs over it in only a few seconds. I call out to her,

“You’re a strange one. Most people would head for the road.” I hear her whimper, then she starts to sprint for the factory.  I fly over the fence, and land quietly behind her. I sneak up on her, and whisper, ‘Boo’ into her ear. Jenna screams, and starts to cry. She runs even harder for the factory, and yells,

“Help! Help me! Please, anybody!” I chuckle, 

“No one’s coming,” I say in a sing-song, “The factory is closed.” Jenna sobs, and continues to run for the door. When she gets there I stop, and watch her disappear inside.  I wait for thirty seconds, then yell just loud enough for her to hear me,

“Here I come! Ready or not!” Like this is Hide-and-seek. I run through the door, and sing,

“I’ll find you,” I wait but hear nothing. I turn and walk through a hallway, looking in every door as I walk down it. When I get to the end there’s a flight of stairs going up. I follow them to the second floor, and find myself in a big room filled with machinery. I walk around and peer under a few of them, but I don't see any movement. I call out to Jenna, trying to scare her into making noise.

I hear nothing, so I climb up the next flight of stairs to the third floor. This floor is full of what appears to be boxes of . . . . Bricks? There's no way Jenna is hiding in a box of bricks, so I climb up to the fourth and final floor. This floor is smaller than the other three, and is almost empty. I look around for a moment before noticing a small closet in the far corner. I walk towards it, and stand in front for a moment. 

I hear a small squeak, and a puddle seeps out from under the door. I laugh, then grab the door handle. Instead of opening the door I yank it off of it’s hinges. Jenna screams, and presses against the back wall of the closet. When she moves a few brooms and mops fall out. I laugh again,

“A supply closet? How original.” I reach in and pull Jenna out by the hair. I slam her against the wall, and twist her arm behind her back. 

“How does this feel?” I say. I pull her arm so far back that it snaps. Jenna screams again, and says,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I drop her to the ground, then step on her leg. I apply pressure slowly, until I hear a crunch. Jenna screams again, so loud that the blood vessels in her eyes pop. I whisper in her ear,

“I’ll be back.” Then I walk away, leaving her there, sobbing, on the floor. 

When I get outside I pull my cell phone out. I dial three numbers and wait for it to ring.