The Big Break

Dian's POV

Seven Weeks After My Parents' Burial…

“rrrrrrrrrr! rrrrrrrrrrrrrr!'' The school bell peals indicating the end of another horrible school week. I shuffle along the crowd of students gunning for the door, my head covered in a black hoodie. I'm almost at my once shiny locker–now marked and tattooed with stalker, psycho, four-eyed creep– when I hear Kingston's booming laughter from the far end of the crowded hallway. He throws an arm over Claire Eastwood's shoulder, his fingers flirting to breasts that mysteriously grew into a C-cup over the summer. He pulls her head in for a kiss but she turns away at the last moment with a shy smile. 

I realize they're heading in my direction and make a U-turn with a composure I don't feel but luck isn't on my side.

“Hey, it's the four-eyed stalker!” Someone hollers. 

I freeze and the entire hallway bustling with kids keen to leave school suddenly quietens. 

I can feel everyone staring at me and then Kingston ices the cake, “Hey, creep! You're supposed to be a hundred meters away from me, according to my restraining order.”

From the corner of my eye, I see him pull out a laminated piece of white paper from his bag, confirming the rumors spreading around town.

A buzz lights up the hallway and disgust is evident in their expressions as everyone glowers at me.

“Why the hell are you still allowed to school here, Beat it, psycho!” Claire snarls.

Soon, everyone is yelling, “Beat it! Beat it!” 

I get shoved and pushed until my glasses are knocked off my face and I trip over someone's leg and fall hard on my ass. I reach for my glasses just as someone crushes them. I see Lisa Turner's boot grinding on my glasses. Claire Eastwood stomps on my outstretched hand and I snatch it back with a pained yelp. 

I try to fight back but everyone crowds me, staring down at me with disgust and revulsion.

I pick myself off the floor, pushing through the crowd and my terror, and sprint in the opposite direction, smack dab into a hard chest. 

Steady male hands grip my shoulders and I look up but my sight is all ruined from my tears and my long-sightedness. 

“T-tank y-y-you,” I say to the blurred face.

“You shouldn't.” A gruff voice with a slight Russian twang answers. 

He takes the hand Claire stomped on–now swollen– and places something cold on it.

“Come on,” He tugs me into an empty classroom and sits me on a chair.

Suddenly, I can't breathe and my heart jackhammers in my chest. I clutch the area, pounding it with my fist, hoping to make it better but it only gets worse. Dark spots start dancing behind my eyes and a loud whirr fills my ears…

“I can't breathe…” I wheeze.

“Count backward from one hundred.” He orders calmly, sounding almost bored. 

I obey mindlessly and my eyes are dry and my heartbeat is regular as I reach number thirty-four.

“What's your name?” I ask to distract myself.

He stiffens, “That's not important.” 

I tilt my head to regard him,“ What'd you mean?”

He abruptly drops the cold thing, “It means what I said. It doesn't matter.” he grinds out.

He paces to the classroom entrance and his features become less muddy. 

Full inky hair, lean muscles, very tall, nice butt…

“You know they're right.” He starts quietly.

“Huh?”

“Your parents shouldn't have died that night. Your father shouldn't have died that night.” He turns to me and I catch a glimpse of black eyes and sharp cheekbones before his face is blurred again.

"Wha..." 

He's saying it softly but the words slice through me like the sharp edge of a butcher's blade, “He wouldn't have died if you hadn't been so stupid!” 

He barks out a harsh laugh, “You killed them… You killed your father. ” 

“That's not true!” I protest, my voice cracking, “It wasn't my fault!” 

I didn't mean for it to happen.

He ignores me or maybe he doesn't hear me, “Killed by his daughter. Killed by his own blood…” 

“That's a lie! It wasn't my fault!” I cry weakly but get no response. He left. He just left.

I cry until my tearduct dries up and I'm left with a full throb in my head then I buy a mitten for my hand on the way home.

I enter the house to see boxes stacked in different corners of the sitting room.

                                        ......

       

“What do you mean, Manhattan?!"

I storm after Aunt Sherry who enters my dead parent's room and starts packing their stuff into an empty box. 

“Stop packing!” I send the box flying across the room, it crashes against the wall and drops with a thud. 

Aunt Sherry's eyes go wide in surprise, “What's gotten into you, Dian?!” 

“I'm sorry.” I plop on the bed, tucking my hands between my legs to hide their trembling.

The bed dips as she sits beside me and tugs my shaking hands into hers.

"We can't stay here, Dian.” she says gently rubbing my palm against hers.

“But we just buried them, I– I can't leave them. You understand that, don't you Aunt Sherry?” tears clog my throat as I hold her gaze.

“I'm sorry Dian, but we can't.”

I clasp her hands, “But we can, Uncle Will's rich! He could buy the house.”

Her eyes hold so much sorrow, my heart breaks all over, “Your school called. Again.”

I tug my hands from hers, “That's nothing to worry about.”

She lifts my chin and peers into my eyes, “It is something to worry about, Little Dee.”

I bristle at the nickname. 

“They're hurting you, Dee. They're saying horrible things everywhere in town, and with the dismissed lawsuit, now's the best time to leave.”

“Yeah, well they're not wrong,” I mutter.

“Yes, they are. It WAS NOT your fault Dian Josephine Fibarthorn.” She admonishes.

“But it is!” I shout, startling her, “It is. If I wasn't so selfish they'd still be alive.” I stand up, my cheeks heating, “If I didn't mute their texts, they'd be here and you'd be in Manhattan… If I wasn't so hung over a boy… If only I hadn't missed curfew, I'd have Mom and Dad with me, right here! Not you! I don't want you!” I run into my room and slam the lock in place.

It's all my fault.

Everything is my fault. 

They died because of me.

They're gone because of me. 

Self-loathing eats at my soul and my freaking will to live as tears and snot stream down my face. With a frustrated scream, I smash everything I can lay my hands on until my room is a pile of broken furniture. Exhaustion kicks in and I fall asleep sitting behind the door.

I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and a plan to start over. I find Aunt Sherry sipping hot coffee and staring out the kitchen window.

She turns and sets down the coffee pot and comes over to hug me, “How was your night?”

I breathe in her coffee scent that reminds me of Mom before I step away, tears stinging my eyes, “For one, I have a crazy headache from all the crying,” 

She draws out a chair and nudges me into it.

A tablet is placed in my hand which I ingest with a sip of the warm water she sets beside me.

“More,” she urges and I finish the cup of water.

“I'm sorry about last night, all the yelling and the stuff I broke and—”

“I understand Dee.” She says softly.

“I didn't mean those words, I love you Aunt Sherry and I'm grateful you're here with me, right now.” I reach over and hug her.

We hold onto each other and she says quietly, “I also wish they didn't die, I wish I didn't have to be here except during Thanksgiving, prepping naked turkeys…” I snicker at the fond memories.

She looks me in the eye, “You shouldn't beat yourself up, sometimes bad things happen to good people,”

I nod, my eyes watering again.

“Good, and you should listen to me because I'm a medical expert, so I know these things, yeah?” She gives me a gentle nudge.

“Yeah,” I say, nudging her back with a smile.

“About moving to Manhattan… I'm cool with it.” Her smile could break through the roof as she pulls me in for another hug.

“We've handled your transfer papers, you can resume next week… ” 

“Okay,”

It's like she's in my head because she adds, “.... Will and I signed the adoption papers last night, how do you feel about Josephine Dukes?” 

My smile is watery as I reply, “A bit corny but... I like it.”