In fifth grade, a girl joined our class. I remember that she was extremely shy, but once you got to know her, she was very kind, funny, and a little motherly at times. She was a very good friend to us all.
But I wasn't. To be honest, I really can't say I was her "friend."
I was always jealous of her in every way—her perfect golden hair, her skin that never broke out, the way she smiled and laughed. God, she was so perfect. And that made me so irritated for some reason. Every time she tried to talk to me, I brushed her off, giving hints that I was disgusted by her. But she still acted nice to me, shared stuff with me, and asked if I was okay every day. This, this…
*A heavy breath followed.*
You know that beauty didn't last.
By the end of middle school, the golden glow had faded from her hair. Once long and beautiful, it had been cut short as if someone had just ripped it out, leaving it jagged. She also started covering her skin as if she were ashamed of it. As kids, we didn't think much of it. Honestly, I was glad she started to look hideous.
Freshman year came along. As I got older, I finally realized what might have been going on with her—the warning signs of her unexpected changes. So I tried talking to her, but she could barely manage full sentences, only a "hey" or "bye." The girl who used to be so good at English couldn't even speak it anymore.
Halfway through the year, all her friends from fifth grade stopped speaking to her. Someone found a small notebook with different addresses and room numbers in her bag, and the rumors exploded that she was a "street girl." She tried to deny it but could not get a word out in her defense. The one chance I had to help her, to get closer to her, I just stood and watched as people started to avoid her like she was disgusting. Even the teachers didn't bother hiding it. Toward the end of the school year, her clothes were always dirty. Her eyes looked exhausted. The way she moved seemed painful. Every day it was like I could hear her clock ticking slower and slower, waiting to stop. But every day it was pretty obvious that she would stop it herself.
She needed help. I needed to help her. But for some reason, I couldn't. Every time I tried, she smiled at me and then brushed me off, like I used to do to her.
Am I the problem?
I am, aren't I? Like I said before, I was never her friend. I wasn't trying to help her; I was trying to make up for being a bad friend… because of guilt. In all honesty, if she did kill herself, I would have been less guilty because I tried to save her. I was just trying to save myself from being a reason, huh. I'm really a horrible friend… person, aren't I?
At the beginning of sophomore year, she was gone. Two weeks went by, and she never showed up. The teacher still called her name.
…
…
…
"Not here, as usual," the teacher said with shame.
Esther…
Esther…
ESTHER
"Here!"
"Esther," the teacher said in a strict voice.
"Where's your friend?" she asked.
"I don't know," I could only mutter.
…
"Very well, they will probably call soon."
"Who will call?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
I was too afraid even to ask again.
So I sat there and waited for the bell to ring at 12:00 p.m. Time for lunch. In my school, lunch is one period for everyone, so when you walk outside, you see a swarm of girls talking about their day, what nails they should get, lovers from outside the school sneaking in. And there's me, a girl who gets her lunch and sits and eats without talking. It's like I'm becoming her. Heh, but I had hardly any time to even think about it as a familiar voice sounded out behind me.
"Hey."
It sounded like someone was trying to be soft, but her voice was too deep, gravelly, and aggressive to be friendly. So I tried to ignore her, hurry, eat my lunch, and go back to my room to look for any clue about her disappearance. But of course she—or the boss girl, as I call her—was very stubborn and persistent.
She slid my food off the table while the teacher watched and did nothing, because they were scared of her daddy.
"Don't you hear me talking to you?" the boss girl said in a high-and-mighty tone.
Again I tried to ignore her and pick up my food. But she pushed me back down.
"No. Leave it." She put her finger to her ear and asked, "You don't hear me talking to you?"
"No. Sorry," I said, trying to hold my anger.
She looked me up and down like I was crazy or retarded.
"Ditch that attitude, bitch." She continued, "But in other words… your roommate—what's her name… ah, I don't know—but your friend. What happened to her?"
"I don't know."
"Come on, come on, tell me. We all know you both are close."
"We are not close. She was just a roommate," I answered.
The boss girl looked up. "Okay, this is getting annoying. Everyone in this school knows she's a hooker. Stop trying to defend her. All I want to know is—did she sell herself, get pregnant, or did she, you know…" She slid her hand across her throat.
I pushed her hand away, stood up, and walked away, furious at the indecency. But as I said, she persisted.
I made it outside to the garden. I felt a hard push—not just a palm, but a violent grab of my bag that forced me down to the ground. She got on top of me, pulling my hair and screaming, "You bitch! Pushing me after I tried to be friendly and help you?"
I struggled to lift myself. She was much bigger than me, and again the teacher was too afraid to help.
"Grab her bag!" the boss girl screamed. "Check it. I bet she's just like her slutty friend."
And of course her "friends" were the first to open it. Still struggling to get up, I screamed, "Stop!"
"Why? Do you have something in there—condoms, tips… drugs?"
"No!" I screamed.
No matter how much I struggled, the boss girl was two times my size. They took everything out of my bag: books, pens, my laptop—until they found it: a small little book with a lock on it. One of the girls screamed, "It's a thin leather strap. We can cut it. Get the scissors!" The boss girl screamed, "There's a switchblade in my bag. Get it and cut it open." The same girl ran to the boss girl's bag, pulled out the switchblade, and cut the leather apart. "They're really just watching this?" I whispered. "Well!!?" The boss girl screamed, "What does it say?" as she flipped the pages. "Oh my God," the girl said with a smile.
43 South Colin Street Room 3
54 North Harry Ave Room 54
23 North Martin Street
"There are so many addresses and room numbers in here, some crossed out, some circled, a few that have a little note next to them that says either safe or dangerous," but before she finished the word, she paused.
"72 West Gordon Street," she said, shocked.
Everyone knew where the boss girl lived; hell, they knew the street her daddy owns.
"You bitch, you're just like your friend."
I tried to explain, "It's not," but couldn't get a word out.
The boss girl raised a hand to tell the girl with the book to give her the knife.
For a second, the teacher was itching to move, but the other stopped her and whispered in her ear.
The girl gave the boss girl her knife back.
I struggled and struggled to move but couldn't.
The boss got close to my face and, in a soft whisper, said, "You had fun with my daddy. I'm not mad really. I just wanna help you," as she switched the blade. "After this, nobody's gonna want a messed-up girl like you."
"Wait, please stop—NO!" I screamed. I looked over at the teacher, screaming "Help!" but they did nothing… NOTHING.
The boss called the other girls to hold me down, and they agreed without hesitation.
The boss girl began to place the blade on my face, slowly carving me. Blood began to drop out.
"Make it so the cut is deep, so she has to get stitches," one of the girls said.
"It hurts," I screamed. "Stop," I screamed, but no one cared.
No one… I began to black out from the pain, maybe the loss of blood, then remembering… remembering… what was her name?
I forgot her name. I don't even know her name. All I remember is her face. Wait, before she disappeared, there was a scar on her face; it looked like she was trying to hide it with her long collar. Huh.
I never knew where she got it from. I thought it was a clear sign of abuse at home, but now I know who gave it to her. It's funny how I'm starting to become like her in some way. It all started with her.
The boss girl finally got off me; my face was numb. Painful drops of blood and tears fell from my face to the ground. My body was shaking, a feeling I had never felt before. I sat up, feeling humiliated. I looked up and saw myself in the glass. My face was destroyed. I looked around at everyone. No one moved. Some stared at me, others looked away, but not one of them came to help. They just stood there and watched her carve my face. What kind of humans are they? With so much anger, I muttered, "They all should—"
The boss girl and the other girl who was holding me fell to the ground, shaking like they were having a seizure. That's when the teacher finally wanted to fucking help, but the second they touched the boss girl, they fell as well and began to shake violently. But one teacher wearing a glove was fine. She immediately knew and screamed, "Don't touch her blood; it's contaminated!"
Every girl heard this and started to run away. Screaming that I was affected by a disease is something.
I tried to stand, but an arm gripped me tightly; the security guard was holding me. I asked, "What was going on?" but she didn't reply, only forcing me away from the area and dragging me to a part of the school I'd never been to. I screamed, "Can you tell me what's going on?" She answered, "You need to calm down," as she opened a door, threw me in, and shut it behind me. The room was just a metal box with a single light on top. Then gases began to enter the room from the open vents. "HEY," I started to bang on the door. "LET ME OUT." No answer. My body started to feel weak, like I was melting and something inside of me was going crazy. The gas went on for a few seconds, then it stopped, but the discomfort didn't. By then I was on the floor, body numb, eyes blacking out, nothing hurt, just felt very… uncomfortable…
"I was able to get the blood out of her system before it turned lethal. She did suffer some internal damage, but she should be fine," said a woman with blood all over her apron.
The security guard replied, "Good. How about the other—"
"Leave them," a deep voice rang out behind them.
They both turned to see a tall man with slicked-back hair and a very expensive, clean-looking suit, holding a golden cane. Three, maybe four, men dressed in black with hoods surrounded the area.
Both the woman and the guard fell to the ground, bowing to the man.
The guard spoke. "S-Sir, your daughter is fine."
The man raised his hand.
"That is not my concern," he said in a soft emperor's voice.
"Sorry, sir. Then what has caused you to come here?" the nurse replied.
The man walked over, trembling, his cane striking the floor with each step. He stopped in front of his daughter.
He put his cane on his daughter's head and pressed a button on top of it. His daughter's body wiggled a little. Then he removed the cane from her body and swung it toward the guard. Blood fell onto her face, and, in just a second, she fell to the ground, shaking until she stopped moving.
The nurse looked in terror, but the man smiled and then began to laugh.
"Heh… heh… HAHAHA!"
"Do you know how long it takes for a host to be born? Do you know how rare it is to find a host? Do you know that a host can only be a woman?" he said, grasping in relief. "Now I have her. Where is she?" he asked, looking at the nurse.
"I… I… don't know. The guard was the one who took her."
"I am asking as if I never told you where to put them. She probably put her in a disinfection room."
He told the men around him to follow him and told one to stay behind.
"Sit. What should I do with the body?"
"Are you deaf? Haven't I said to leave them?"
"Leave it," he said, walking away.
Making his way to the door, he opened it and saw Esther on the floor.
"Such elegance."
But before he could touch her, a loud bang sounded outside.
The man looked out the window and saw multiple men in black jumpsuits raiding the school, grabbing the girl and teacher from their dorms.
The men looked at Esther.
"I was hoping to take you in, but I guess not today. I will be back, my dear," the man looked disappointed. "Let's get out of here."
But just as he said so, the door burst open, revealing a tall man in the same black jumpsuit, with the zipper not fully fastened, like those guys with button-up shirts who have the first two unbuttoned.
"Nothing here," he said as he continued to walk. "Fuck me."
"They even got a disinfection room in here… and they use it," he said as he picked up the girl.
He walked out of the building holding the girl.
There was chaos, with teachers being cuffed and students being brought into a room that flashed…
"I'll take her, sir," the medic says, grabbing Esther. "Looks like she was just unconscious; there are no wounds, no bleeding, nothing. She'll be fine"
"Yeah… ok good. "Did you take care of it"
"Yes, sir, we were able to eliminate it, but it looks like it has already eaten multiple bodies; still trying to figure out the count and who. It was about to go for the next one, but we were able to save her when it was in the middle of eating her. She was extremely damaged… she died from her injuries shortly after"
…
"Ok, just focus on the girls and the teacher; then the investigation team will come later"
"Yes, sir
Soulbound - Pure Bloods