Breaking Free

by Ellie Rose

  Breaking Free

  Ellie Rose

  Copyright

  ©2019-2020 by Ellie Rose

  Registered with ISBN

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission of Ellie Rose.

  Dedication

  Thank you to my husband who told me not to give up on my dreams.

  Thank you to my best friend who told me to keep at it even though I wanted to give up

  Thank you to those who have helped me make my dream of becoming an author come true.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Present

  Chapter 2: Past

  Chapter 3: Present

  Chapter 4: Past

  Chapter 5: Present

  Chapter 6: Past

  Chapter 7: Present

  Chapter 8: Past

  Chapter 9: Present

  Chapter 10: Past

  Chapter 11: Present

  Chapter 12: Past

  Chapter 13: Present

  Chapter 14: Past

  Chapter 15: Present

  Chapter 16: Present

  Chapter 17: Present

  Chapter 18: Present

  Chapter 19: Present

  Chapter 20: Present

  Chapter 21: Present

  Chapter 22: Present

  Chapter 23: Present

  Chapter 24: Present

  Chapter 25: Present

  Chapter 26: Present

  Chapter 27: Present

  Chapter 28: Present

  Chapter 29: Present

  Chapter 30: Present

  Chapter 31: Present

  Chapter 1: Present

  My clammy hand grasps the doorknob leading into Baylor High. I try to calm my beating heart by remembering the breathing technique I taught myself.

  In and out. In and out.

  I open the door and immediately feel the stares. I look down at my white sneakers. Every look seems to burn a hole in my skin. Skin that always feels dirty, no matter how much I scrub it until it’s red and raw.

  I can’t clean away the feeling of his hands on my waist, my throat, or the inside of my thighs. It’s like a tattoo: once it is on your skin, it’s permanent.

  I will myself to put one foot in front of the other as the whispers fill the surrounding silence. The urge to turn around and run back outside grips me hard, but I won't give in.

  The whispers hit me from all sides. I feel their eyes creeping along my skin.

  “She’s so weird.” My stomach clenches as I pass a boy from my science class.

  “Why did she dye her hair black?” I duck my chin against my chest, letting the once blonde hair hang in front of my face trying to hide.

  “She’s such a freak.” A girl whispers to her friend, glaring at me as I walk by them.

  The echoing of their laughs ringing in my ears as I walk farther into the hall.

  The idea to dye my hair to black was a last-minute decision. It was the only thing I thought I’d be able to get away with without worrying my parents too much. It was something that I could change about myself that made me feel like he had no control of. I would have switched my wardrobe to all black clothes but knew my parents would have wondered if I had turned to the dark side.

  Less wondering led to fewer questions. Questions I am not ready to answer.

  I quicken my footsteps and pull my hood up to block out all the whispers from students standing at their lockers, huddling in groups staring. I refuse to break down in front of them, but I wish more than anything that the floor beneath me would open and swallow me whole. My eyes stay downcast as I move through the halls.

  This school is where I used to be happy and walk the halls smiling. Halls that always seemed to smile back when the sun came through the windows.

  Now, I feel like they are closing in around me. Nothing is the same anymore. He threw a blanket over everything, making it dark and depressing.

  Remembering where my homeroom was last year, I follow the familiar twists and turns of the halls.

  As I reach for the door handle of my homeroom and breathe a sigh of relief, I pull my hood down, and a slimy voice freezes me in my tracks. “Clearwater!” Pure dread washes over me, making me break out in a cold sweat.

  His smug tone sends shivers down my spine, and my left hand drops to my side, clenching in a fist. My right hand squeezes the backpack strap slung over my right shoulder.

  “Guess we have homeroom together, huh? Should be a fun year.” His self-satisfied voice washes over me, making my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

  He is right behind me now, and I can feel his hot breath tickling my neck. The horrible sensation breaks me free. I jerk away, glancing up from my feet just in time to see his perfectly white teeth flash in a victorious, knowing grin as he pushes by me into the classroom. When his shoulder grazes mine, a wave of nausea hits me.

  Since that night, I haven’t been able to eat much. The small amount of breakfast I could get down this morning lurches toward the surface of my mouth. I clench my teeth shut as I back out of the doorway and bolt for the nearest bathroom.

  I barely have enough time to shut the stall door before this morning’s French toast hits the toilet water. The heaving stopped, and I know for sure there is nothing left. I sit down on the floor, not even caring how filthy it is. I bring my knees up to my chest and drop my head to them as tears trail down my cheeks.

  My body shakes uncontrollably as my emotions consume me. For weeks I told myself that I would have the courage and the strength to face school when it began again.

  Eight buildings connect Baylor High in one big circle. Eight buildings, over a thousand students, and I thought I would never have to see him again. I mentally kicked myself for thinking I wouldn’t. Being in the same grade and going to the same school, I was bound to run into him.

  The images I long to forget force their way to the front of my mind.

  A hand around my throat.

  Another hand undoing the belt on my jeans.

  Hot breath hitting my cheek as he whispers, “After tonight, you won’t ever forget me.”

  I’m not sure how long I sit on the bathroom floor, lost in the memories that won’t leave me alone. I’m trying to stop the tears that keep wanting to fall when I hear the bathroom door open. I freeze, trying not to make a sound as I see a pair of yellow shoes walk in, turn, and stop outside my stall.

  “Hello?”

  From the voice, I can tell it’s not a teacher or hall monitor checking for skippers. I expect her to continue going about her business, but to my dismay, I watch her knees hit the floor in front of me. Gentle light brown eyes covered by big, rounded glasses connect with my dark blue ones.

  “Hi...” She stares up at me. “I came in to get out of homeroom. Do they leave the air off or something? It was so stuffy I couldn’t take it. You should come out, so we both aren’t sitting on this disgusting floor,” she says to me.

  I stare at her as she talks so freely, looking under a stall door like she does it often.

  She smiles then stands up. I can see her shoes pointing at me as she waits patiently for me to come out. Reluctantly, I get up off the floor, and flush the toilet, watching as my stomach contents swirl around before they are finally sucked down. For just a second, I stand there wishing it could suck me down with them.

  I brush the tears away that still cling to my cheeks, then slowly open the door to face the girl standing on the other side.

  Her short, brown hair barely skims her shoulders, and her worn, blue jeans and faded Rascal Flatts t-shirt make her look like she is very comfortable with school. Her eyes sparkle behind her big rim glasses, and her uneven teeth smile at me, pretending
she doesn’t notice my red nose and blotchy, tear-streaked face.

  She reaches her hand out to me. “I’m Anna.” My eyes scan her hand, noticing her nails look like they are chewed on constantly.

  She clears her throat as I look up in time to see her eyes dart to the side. She shifts from one foot to the other, and her smile is fading, but her hand stays midair, waiting for me to take it.

  As soon as I do, I feel the warmth of her hand wrap around mine in a gentle grip. I look up again at her face to find her eyes back on mine.

  My voice is barely above a whisper as I say, “Paige...”

  Anna nods and turns around, walking to the mirror above the white sink. She moves her hands through her hair, sighing, then reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a scrunchie. “I cut my hair too short,” she says as she tries to pull it into a ponytail. “I’ve regretted it ever since. Now I can’t even put it up.”

  After two more attempts of failing miserably, Anna shoves the scrunchie back in her pocket, turns around, and looks me up and down curiously.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  I’ve been watching with my mouth open slightly, in awe. I bite my bottom lip, surprised by her question, and look at my sneakers, not answering her.

  I hear the school bell ring overhead, dismissing homeroom, and then the sound of fast-moving feet with students talking at high volume. Feeling dazed, I realize how long I was in the bathroom. I should have been in homeroom for the first day of school. I wonder how much trouble I’m going to be in.

  Girls enter the bathroom, making it too loud to talk, so Anna grabs my hand and pulls me out to the hall. It’s not any better out here.

  “What’s your next class?” she shouts over the noise of the voices in the hallway.

  Wordlessly, I pull my schedule from the front pocket of my backpack and slowly hand it over. Her eyes skim the paper, and she smiles even wider. “Cool! The only classes we don’t have together are homeroom and sixth-period history class. I’m new here too, so I’m not sure where to go either. We can find the classes together, and that way neither of us will look like chickens with our heads cut off,” she says, laughing at her own joke.

  I realize Anna probably thought I was crying in the bathroom because it was my first day, and she is trying to help me feel at ease.

  I can’t help but crack a small smile, but it’s only for a second, and Anna doesn’t even notice because her eyes are still focused on my schedule.

  “Let me just go get my stuff from my homeroom, and we can make our way to the next class,” she says, handing back my schedule before walking away.

  I wait for her leaning against the lockers as the other students pass by. Not wanting to catch anyone’s eye, I stare at my sneakers again.

  “I’m back! Let’s go,” Anna’s cheerful voice says.

  I look up from my shoes to see her walking toward the stairs that lead to the next floor. Instead of looking down at my shoes, I stare at Anna’s back and follow her.

  I try to think of nothing, but glimpses of last year flitter through my mind, and I wish I could go back to before everything changed. I wish I listened to the warning signs when he smiled at me for the first time.

  I wish I had never crossed paths with the monster who is slowly destroying my soul one piece at a time.

  Chapter 2: Past

  It was my first day of Sophomore year at Baylor High when I first met Joshua Henley.

  Until then, my mother homeschooled me. My father was in the military, and we moved around a lot. The idea of going to an actual school, and being the new girl, did nothing to settle my nerves when I rolled out of bed the morning of my first day.

  I waited until the morning of to pick out my clothes. I couldn’t figure out which outfit I wanted to wear. I had it down to a light blue jumpsuit and a pink short-sleeved shirt with a white skirt when my mom walked into my room. I sat down on my bed, feeling defeated.

  “Come on, Paige! You’ll be late if you don’t hurry!” She was nervous for me. Neither of my parents wanted me to go and were apprehensive about letting me.

  I’d begged and pleaded with them because I wanted to have a high school experience of my own. When I started to guilt-trip them by mentioning how I had no friends, they gave in.

  My mom stared at me sitting on the edge of my bed, looking frazzled. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what to wear!” I threw my hands up in frustration.

  I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

  She turned and rifled through my dresser drawers. She pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt. She walked over and held them out to me.

  “Just wear what you usually wear. You don’t want to dress like someone you’re not. Just be who you are, and everyone will love you.”

  I took the clothes and placed them on the bed before getting up and hugging her.

  “Thank you,” I tell her as she hugged me back tightly.

  She wasn’t ready for me to span out on my own, and she spent the last few weeks trying to change my mind. When I wasn’t budging from my decision, she gave up and fretted about it in silence.

  She pulled back from me and put her hands on both sides of my face. Her dark blue eyes mirrored my own. “I love you. Never forget that.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed her hands away from my face, “Mom, I’ll be fine. Go start up the car. I’ll be down in a second.”

  My mom patted my cheek before she turned to leave. When she left, I quickly threw on the clothes. I walked up to my white oval mirror in the left corner of my room and stared at my reflection as I tried to calm my nerves.

  The eyes I inherited from my mom stared back at me, and my long, wavy blond hair flowed freely down my back.

  I tried to remain strong in front of my mom, so she wouldn’t worry, but I was nervous. When my father retired, the plan to stay in one place longer than a year allowed me to enroll in a public school.

  I flattened the light green t-shirt against my body and forced myself to smile. My mom was right, I needed to be myself. I turned away from the mirror and grabbed my backpack from the chair in front of my desk. I looked more ready than I felt as I walked out of my room and shut the door.

  On my way out, I stopped by my father’s office and poked my head in to say goodbye.

  When he saw me, his face lit up with a smile. “Hey, bug, heading off to school?”

  Bug. My dad has called me that ever since I could remember.

  “Yeah. Thought I would stop in before I left.”

  He got up from his chair and came over to press a kiss to my forehead. “Have a good day. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call Mom or me.” He moved back toward his desk.

  “I will. See you later.”

  I wasn’t sure if he heard me because he was already behind his desk, distracted by the paperwork in front of him.

  I shut the door and sighed. My dad might have been retired, but he still did things for the Navy. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it with us and often hid in his study for hours.

  I squared my shoulders and walked out of the house to my mom, waiting in the car.

  I was pretty quiet on the drive. Putting all my energy into reducing my nerves.

  As my mom pulled up to the sidewalk leading into the school, she put the car in park and turned to look over at me. “All right. We made it. You ready?”

  I gulped, looking at school in front of me. With its red brick walls and rectangle windows, it looked intimidating. I looked down at the binder in my lap and read over my schedule, slipped in the front sleeve.

  I faked a smile, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and looked up at my mom. “Can hardly wait.”

  My mom smiled back at me, “Better hurry, or you’ll be late on your first day.”

  I opened the car door and slipped out.

  My mom leaned over the console and said, “I love you! Have a good day!”

  “I love you too,” I repli
ed before closing the door.

  My mom pulled away, and I watched until she turned down a street, disappearing. I turned around and hugged my binder to my chest as I walked toward the entrance.

  Right before I got to the double doors, someone hit me from behind, knocking my binder from my grasp. I looked up to see a boy with brown dreadlocks disappearing into the school.

  “Asshole! Watch where you are going!” a girl’s voice shouted from behind me. “You okay?” She came up from behind and bent down to pick up my binder.

  I took in her appearance as she handed the binder over to me. She had bright red curly hair and sparkling light blue eyes that reminded me of the Hawaii waters. She had on a clingy white t-shirt with a blue jean skirt that barely touched her knees.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  She beckoned me to follow her into the school. As we pushed through the crowd of students in our way, she turned to me and asked, “What’s your locker number?”

  I looked at my schedule and found the number I wrote down a few days ago. “one eight three.”

  She nodded her head and continued to push through the crowd.

  I followed her as she turned down different hallways and finally came upon a staircase. I looked back down the hallway and hoped I could remember the route we just took.

  “One eighty-three is on the second floor,” was all the girl told me before she took off up the stairs. By the time I got to the top, I was panting.

  “Here it is!” She came to a stop in front of a line of lockers on the right side of the hallway.

  I quickly opened the locker and shoved some of my books into the locker.

  “Thanks! Do you, by any chance, know where the A-wing is?” I asked the girl as I shut the locker and turned the knob of the lock.

  “Yeah, if you go back downstairs, turn right and follow the hallway until you see a big sign reading A.”

  The bell rang from above us, and the girl moved away from me.

  “Wait! What’s your name? Will I see you again?” I raised my voice to ask her over the noise of the students trying to get to their classrooms.