4

As I explained everything to Clara and Luka, I struggled to contain my anger.  "You're in a huge predicament. You gave them a reason to torture you, and I know Xander will not forgive you for this."  Luka remarked on my situation before Clara waved off his comment.

"Shut up, Luka."

"What do you expect me to say? I'm not mistaken."

"They vandalized my room and publicly shamed me. What more could they possibly want?" My voice trembled with anger, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

Luka's eyes squinted as he noticed someone approaching from behind.

The three of us gulped as we saw Xander giving me an angry glare, followed by Zareena and Victor. It didn't take long for me to understand they had informed him about my latest actions.

Something told me I was in trouble now. The way these bullies were looking at me gave me the vibe that a war had begun.

Before that war could start, we hastily walked into our classroom and settled into our seats. It was best to play it safe for now.

***

After wrapping up our professors' lectures, we made our way to tuck our belongings into our lockers. The lingering fear of encountering certain individuals again gnawed at me as I approached my locker to stash a book. Clara and Luka were engrossed in conversation, oblivious to any lurking dangers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Xander standing across the hallway, observing our movements as we neared our lockers. Doing my best to ignore him, I tried to distance myself from the situation. Keeping my head low, I attempted to open my locker, but it seemed jammed. After a bit of struggle, I exerted all my strength to pull it forcefully. Suddenly, I felt a sticky substance covering my head and shoulders. The smell was so repulsive that I vomited almost immediately. It turned out to be a mixture of mustard sauce and rancid oil, dripping from above.

Clara and Luka wanted to help me, but they stopped when they saw them walking toward me.

“What happened, miss?” I heard someone jeer, knowing full well what they had done.

They were laughing at me… again. The humiliation reached its peak, and all I wanted was to run from there. Before I did, I stopped for a few seconds and gazed at Xander before running toward the girl’s room.

To my surprise, he stood there with a blank face, just watching me.

Why did he do that? I don’t know. I wanted to ask him why he wasn't laughing at me. Wasn't he enjoying the show? I wanted him to stop all this, but I knew he wanted to teach me a lesson. And here I am, covered with stinky mustard sauce. It's dripping all over my clothes.

Tears blurred my vision as my body was sticky and stinky simultaneously.

Clara followed behind me, her voice soothing as she tried to calm me down. “Here, let me help clean you up. I have some spare clothes in my locker. Let me bring them for you.”

I was shaking with anger and disgrace. “How could they do this to me?” I cried with a shaky voice.

“It’s okay. Just calm down,” she repeated, trying to convince me.

Through the anger, all I saw was Xander’s face in front of my eyes.

I hate him.

He is a heartless man. One thing I was sure of, I hated him. I hate him for everything. I don’t even have the courage to face my classmates. Not when everyone saw how badly they treated me.

On my behalf, Clara later informed all the professors about my situation. Once I realized the dean couldn’t help me, I knew I couldn't expect any reprieve from my professors. Nobody can help me with this mess. A while later, tears streamed down my face as I lay on my bed, gazing at the aged ceiling of my dorm. When I heard a buzzing sound nearby, I glanced at my phone, noticing a missed call.

"Hello, Auntie," I answered.

"My child, how are you? Is everything alright?" Aunt Jeena's voice came through the line.

My mom, Nia Marshall, had passed away a few years ago from leukemia. Shortly after her diagnosis, my dad left her for another woman. Aunt Jeena, my mom's best friend, took me in as her own. She was like a second mother to me.

"I'm okay. Have you heard from Caleb?" I tried to shift the focus.

"No sign of him," she replied.

Caleb, Aunt Jeena's only son, was like an older brother to me. We grew up together, but he got involved with drugs while I was busy with my studies. Despite our efforts to help him, he eventually ran away. It had been six months since we last saw him.

"Has he called you?"

I knew why she asked. Caleb had always loved me. I was the only person he truly trusted. But this time, he left without a word to me.

"Aunty, if he calls, I'll let you know first. Don't worry. We'll find him," I assured her.

As our conversation continued, she asked about my new life, but I wasn't ready to share. I painted a picture of positivity, sparing her the added stress.

For a few minutes, I managed to distract myself, but once I hung up, the pain flooded back. What was I going to do? How much more could I endure? The questions tormented my mind.

Feeling a headache coming on, I nestled under my covers and drifted off to sleep, without eating anything.