**Trigger Warning: information in author's note**

The rhythm of the school makes my ears vibrate as I rush out of my classroom, clutching my books to my chest. The clicking of shoes and buzz of hundreds of voices rings around as I dodge through hallways towards my locker. My personal tormentor has kept his eye on me all day. That usually means he waits to pounce behind any corner, ready for an after school session of Fun time. Lately he's been trying to discover how many punches it'll take to get my insides to become my outsides all over the pavement.

Hence me running. My shoes barely make an impact in the endless cacophony of voices. It seems everyone wants to be heard. It leaves us little people thrown to the side in the endless cycle of survival of the fittest. The school becomes unnaturally cold as I dash down the hallways, bumping into people left and right. After a seemingly endless series of "sorry" or "excuse me," I finally spot freedom.

My wooden locker sits at the end of a line of other wooden lockers. Momentum sending me forward, my face squishes against the orange grain. I groan, pulling away and rubbing my cheek as I open it and shove my books into my backpack. I don't even need Rodrick to get myself beat up; I end up doing it to myself.

People stream past me in little huddles, like packs of wolves, talking and chatting. Friends. I tug on my hair, biting my lip and leaning against my only reliable friend (my locker). All I need is a quick breath then I'll get on my way. Just breathe. The annoying advice that every counselor or therapist gives me has a habit of only working sometimes. Now, my lungs decide to give me a break, granting me the much-needed oxygen to focus and calm down.

Until Griffin appears.

He hasn't said much since that night a few days ago, probably trying to piece together what happened. Griffin grins at me, dimples flashing, arms wrapping around me. His lips brush against mine but I pull away.

Students surround us, the packs of teenagers able to see us, wide out in the open. "Not here," I hiss at him, stepping away from his embrace and shutting my locker.

"No one's looking," he buries his nose in my neck, warm breath blowing across my skin, "we haven't talked since that night at Tim's."

He kisses my neck and I give in for a moment, heart pounding.

I've taken my lunches (which consist of an empty plastic bag and a small bottle of water) in the bathroom recently. The constant banter between Griffin and Rodrick finally broke me. On one side, Griffin pestering me about that dinner. On the other side, Rodrick threatening or making fun of me. My already small appetite shrinks in that cafeteria. The noise alone is enough to drive someone insane.

Needless to say, Griffin doesn't like the new arrangement. Neither does Rodrick, not wanting to miss out on a full half hour of tormenting me.

Griffin squishes me against the locker, making my heart rise to my head and throat sink to my stomach. His broad chest blocks out the rest of the school, but it doesn't matter. I can still hear the endless noise. His lips press against mine again and I turn my face away. "I asked you not to do this."

"Come on," he groans and lets his hand fall down my chest, "you have to give me something."

I swallow hard, "How about no."

His stiff fingers latch onto my biceps and give me a squeeze. Griffin leans forward, "I wasn't asking."

Griffin grabs my backpack off the floor and zips it up, swinging it over his shoulder, putting an arm around me. He taps my lips with a finger and smirks. "Let's go someplace more private, shall we?"

His hands slide down to my forearms and he pulls me down the hall. I wince as his nails scrape through my jacket at the cuts. "Agh," I jerk backwards, bumping into some girl. I fall backwards.

The bare ceilings appear even higher when viewed from the ground. Shocks travel up my spine but I don't move, finding some strange comfort in people walking around me as if some invisible force moved them. Griffin looks down at me, eyebrows raised impossibly high. I take the hand he offers and follow him as he presses through the traffic of students, my thin hand in his larger one.

We pass Rodrick on our way out the door; he gives me a menacing smirk. It's basically leveling up a regular smirk and making it twice as evil. He nods at me before Griffin gives me a yank. The nod seems to signal something I should know, like a message between tormented and tormentor. I have no idea what it means.

Griffin leads me out the large double doors that open into the courtyard. He pulls me down the alleyway that leads to my fortress of solitude. The same old mustard wall protects anyone from view as he pushes me into the little square. No music comes from above as it did before, but the sounds of the city still echoes around in the distance.

His lips press against mine, walking me backwards until I collide with the mustard colored wall. I gasp as thorns scratch at my legs, ivy brushing my arms. Every fiber of my being screams the same word over and over.

Run.

I don't.

"I never collected my tip," he says, referring to that night where I simply couldn't give in. I just couldn't.

He shoves me against the stone, jagged pieces sticking into my back. I groan, forcing myself to kiss back as his lips collide with mine. His hands unbutton my shirt but he doesn't take it all the way off, playing with my nipples as he kisses down my neck. I groan, back arching which only makes it dig into the stone more. Griffin tugs off my jacket and tosses it by our backpacks, unzipping my pants.

I can't move, body frozen in place as he grabs my hands, apparently not noticing my now exposed wounds; he holds them above my head, skin rubbing against the rough wall. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to to keep from screaming as the cuts open from the friction, blood spilling down my arms. He doesn't seem to see, occupied with the lower part of my anatomy.

Cold air blows on my exposed nether religions as Griffin explores with his hand, mouth attaching to mine. I still have my cheek between my teeth, fighting to keep from screaming. He tugs at my lower lip with his teeth, asking for entrance. I can't give it to him, pulling back so my forehead rests against his. I stare into his icy blue eyes, waiting for sparks to fly.

None do.

Heart beating in my head like the endless drumming of the timpani, I watch in horror as Griffin spins me around, smashing my face against the rough wall. I know it cuts open my cheek, blood seeping onto my tongue. Now I'm bleeding inside and out.

Griffin yanks down my pants even further and kicks my legs open, warm body pressing against mine. I feel him adjust himself, fingers sliding into me. He doesn't try to prepare me long, too impatient. Griffin wants what he wants and he always goes out to get it. He shoves into me and I bite down harder, groaning.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out everything. Block out the cold air, the heat of Griffin's body, the throbbing pain every time Griffin thrusts.

I can't move.

Tears fall down my hot skin, burning like acid. I open my eyes and stare up at the putrid colored wall. It used to loom over me with a protective authority, shielding the outside world from me.

Now it stops me from running away.

Numbness haunts me like a dark cloud as I listen to the city, only a few yards away. It feels like a million miles. Even Griffin, who is literally as close as he possibly can be to me, feels like he's far in the distance. Everything does.

I stop biting down on my cheek, giving up. Even the pain feels far away. His hand still holds my arms above my head, keeping me from falling to the ground as he pounds into me. I go limp, surrendering.

I can't think.

I can't breathe.

I can't feel.

Griffin, climaxing into me, pulls out after what seems like an eternity. He cleans up sloppily, keeping me upright with his hard grip, still not noticing the cuts.

Things always seem to turn out that way. No one listens, no sees. I guess no one wants to admit they may be a part of the reason why. Why someone decides to leave or hurt themselves or cry themselves to sleep. They're too busy talking, too busy looking the other direction.

Griffin lets go and I instantly collapse, shaking.

He furrows his brows, grabbing me and lifting me off the ground. I fall into his arms, struggling to breathe normally. He pushes me back, his cold eyes examining my body. He doesn't react, seeing the blood dripping from my mouth, arms, and probably ass too. I struggle to zip myself up, not in the least aroused by what he did. "Why did you do that, huh?" he asks, voice like rock.

He pins me against the wall again, face inches from mine. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

"I asked you a question!" he snaps, shoving me in the chest.

My lungs deflate and I slowly slide down the wall again, covering my face with my bloody hands. "I'm sorry!"

More tears. Slowly suffocating, the cold suddenly becomes more chilly. I struggle to button up my maroon shirt, losing feeling in my fingers.

And the blood just keeps pouring, almost like a fountain. The hard ground is stained red as a pool of the stuff giving me life forms around me. I grab my jacket, entire body shaking. I cover the cuts once more but it soon bleeds through my jacket and drips through the black fabric, so I just toss it to the side. It just keeps pouring and pouring.

My head spins, and suddenly three Griffins stand before me, all glaring with an unreadable expression. He collides into one again and I stare at him, scraggly bushes and ivy whirling around and around. The pounding in my head seems to slow down, the world seems to grow pale and blurred.

He moves his mouth but I can't hear a word he says.

I can hear her screaming however, in the endless disharmony of lost souls. The world disappears for a moment, replaced with a dark place. The glowing eyes of wolves surround me and I see her standing there, eyes a reflection of mine. Her red curls rest across her shoulders and she stares at me. Then it's gone as quickly as it came, Griffin appearing once more.

Griffin kneels down, pulling back my sleeve and glaring at my cuts. He looks into my face, searching just as my mother never stops doing. He seems to find what he's looking for, however, and stands up, walking to the edge of the little corner. He turns, hand on the bricks of the school building. "You're pathetic."

I whimper, curling up into a little ball, world spinning again. "Trust me," I whisper, "I know."

Griffin snorts, shaking his head and picking up his backpack off the ground. He gives me one last look before walking away, leaving me utterly alone. The cold suddenly seems colder as I fall onto my side, whole body stinging. Everything blurs for a moment, longer than before. I manage to finish buttoning my shirt with trembling fingers, taking my jacket off and staring at the dark and bright reds matted on my hand.

The mustard wall looms over me, giving me a place to rest. Part of me wants to lay here forever, never to move again. The voices in the distance start to die away, most students having gone home already.

My hand moves to my jacket pocket before I realize what I'm doing. I pull up Ben's number and press call, fingers shaking uncontrollably. My entire body trembles like a withering leaf. I pray to a God that probably hates me that he answers.

"Hello?" his voice rings through the quiet stone enclosure.

"Help me," I say with as much strength as I can muster, "please."

The world disappears, fading into that dark place again.

I stare into her eyes for a long moment before I give in. I let the darkness consume me, I let the numbness return.

She disappears, drifting away on the wind blowing through the brambles and gnarled saplings.

A little part of me goes with her.

But in the distance, I can hear footsteps. Through the pounding of my heart and strangled breathing; through the cars driving down the road, through the wind and screaming, I can hear him.

Ben appears from the corner, almond-shaped eyes full of concern.

A tiny part of me yearns to smile at his presence, but I can't. I've forgotten how.

Ben runs to my side, hands cupping my face, brows furrowed. I stare at him, wanting to hug him but I still can't move. He's speaking but I can barely hear a word he says.

My hand, still shaking, reaches out and grabs hold of his blue soccer hoodie. I don't have control of my body anymore. I watch his face as he looks down at my bloody hand grabbing his shirt. A tear slips through his lids and he falls over my broken body, his warmth burning through the cold chills traveling down my bones.

He's a tiny speck of light in the darkness.

—-

Trigger: sexual content

 I have two or three weeks left of school and have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. 

I haven't been paying attention in math class and I'm actually going to fail lol. I feel like I'm running out of time for some reason. Even stuck inside everything is still just coming down on me, it's crazy.

Does anyone else ever feel that way at the end of the semester?