Page 3 of Freak

Freak, freak, freak.

Portions of the class still hadn’t left, watching, recording me with their phones, chanting the insult.

I pinned my knees together as Rafael eyed the roll of tape, taking it into his hand.

He stared for a moment, back to the American flag, to his dad who watched over all of us.

“Rafael?” I asked, my lip trembling.

He didn’t blink once, he only stared into my eyes before pulling my hands toward the center of his chest.

“Shut up…” he whispered, slowly, meticulously, enunciating in the most hurtful tone. “You’re a fucking freak.”

Freak, freak, freak.

For a moment I held my breath, my chest caving in with the strangest sensation; gutted, and confused, before screaming at the top of my lungs.

“Stop!” I begged, as Rafael immediately lassoed my wrists, binding me together as everyone watched and laughed.

I dropped my bag, forced to move, lifted from his strength as Veronica opened the lab coat closet.

“Do you believe in the boogeyman?” she sneered sinisterly as Rafael shoved me into the racks of coats, ripping my bracelet off in the process.

I fell against the other end of a dark, claustrophobic space, the audible smack of my back hitting the wall was followed by the collected gasp of everyone around.

And then, it got so uncomfortably quiet.

I sobbed, and the kids watched as I silently, and shamefully, began to wet myself.

“Oh my god, gross. Look!” Veronica laughed, pointing as the heat of piss trickled down my leg, making my denim jeans warm and heavy as they clung to my thighs.

“Rafael?” I asked pathetically, as if it weren’t him that just broke my heart.

He didn’t even care, or so I thought, as he forced an uncomfortable grin, staring at my mess on the ground before muttering the last words I thought we’d ever share.

“Goodbye… Bugs,” he said, slamming the door, locking it shut.

Summer

14 years later

Money could buy a lot of pretty things; and oh, did I love pretty things.

New hair, teeth, and eyes, a mansion by the sea and a luxury car to match—one that purrs so loud, it could make your cunt wet just by the rev of its fucking engine.

I loved that sound, that power, and if you ever wondered what it was like to be behind the wheel of a Lamborghini Aventador, let me just describe it in three simple words: life changing control.

Yes, I had all that, and the attitude to match. Everyone could hear my stark red bottom heels clicking along the hall, a vibrant contrast to the shit-colored carpet of this lousy Holiday Inn hotel.

“Name?” The distracted blonde asked me from behind a foldable table, flipping through pages of forgettable alumnus.

“Summer.” I answered, removing my Versace shades, revealing the bronzed eyeshadow that sat between my glowing green eyes and manicured brows. “Summer Evans.”

I didn’t think I could ever get tired of that look, the one she just gave me, as if I were the reaper.

“Summer?” she asked, not clarifying, but mystified.

I took a moment to stare around the entrance of the small banquet hall, at the semi-filled purple and silver balloons that were shaped into an archway.

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