She sits there, on the cold concrete ground, blood dripping from her nose and tears gushing from her eyes. She’s wearing a crisp white, now blood stained, button up shirt. Her blazer lays on the ground a foot away underneath the bullies foot. Her necktie hangs idle on her neck, swaying in the cool autumn breeze. A blue pleated skirt covers her knees.
“Come on Trinity! You’re 14 and you can’t fight back against little ol’ me? Pathetic!” The bully, Jason Peters, speaks in a low mocking tone. He responds to his own statement with another hard punch to her cranium. “Aw, is the crybaby hurt? What a shame!” Blood trickles down her chin, landing on her shirt. She forces her gaze up, just enough to see his blood stained hands.
To Trinity, this is just another day for her, another day of hell. She stopped begging for mercy back in 5th grade, and now as an 8th grader she just waits for it to end. It hurt like hell but she eventually learned how to dissociate her brain just enough to make it seem faster. Her eyes still soak her face with tears, but that doesn’t matter to her. She’s used to it by now. To the fear and the sadness and the blood.. So much blood.. Almost as much as her tears.
When he was finally bored of her he left with a final punch to her jaw. She stumbled to her feet, spitting out blood as she did so.
After a long and painful walk home, she made it to her old rotting porch and cracked the door just enough to sneak her way into her bug infested, alcohol scented, trailer. But just as she makes it in, the light flips on and her mom is standing there waiting in the living room, clearly unbothered by the blood covering her daughter.
“Where have you been? It’s almost midnight and because you weren't here, I had to do the dishes!”
“I’m sorry mother… a boy at school… attacked me.”
“Well what did you do to provoke him? And why didn’t you fight back? I swear sometimes you are pathetic as you are useless! Now go wash up, and stop it with those tears, you are a hideous cryer.”
Trinity lets out an almost inconceivable sob. She should be used to this by now. After all she has dealt with it since she was born, yet her mothers harsh words still cut deeper than any knife could.
She stumbles into the bathroom and reaches for the first-aid kit. She picks up the familiar bottle of disinfectant and lightly pours it on all her wounds, wincing at the pain. The bandages are next to be pulled from the shelf. She wraps her arms in the white cloth in a desperate attempt to stop the blood pouring from her pale skin. She plugs up the sink and fills it to the brim with warm water before dunking her head inside. The water splashes out before settling into a calm and serene feeling all over her skin. She scrubs at her scalp until all the blood is out of her hair. She holds her head under until she is desperate for air, and finally lifts it up and drains the sink, of the now murky, blood red, water.
She stares at her reflection, bandaged and broken inside and out. She stares so hard she thinks the glass might crack under the weight of her gaze.
After many agonizing seconds she tears her stare away from the mirror and makes her way to the living room. Her dad lays on the couch in a drunken haze. Broken bottles scatter the floor and the television plays a black and white static screen. Her dad waves one rough hand at her, a silent signal for her to get him another beer.
“You know…da-” she stops on that last word, quickly correcting herself, “father, do you think you could try to cut down on the drinks? They are really bad for you and you always make large messes that you never-”
She is cut off by the sound of her fathers fist slamming into the splintered table. “Do you know how much I do for this damn family! And what do I get in return! A useless wife and an ungrateful daughter!” He fights his way off the couch and waves a broken beer bottle around until he finally slams it against her cheek. Blood spills down as glass hits the floor. “Get out of my sight… filthy crybaby.”
“Yes father…” She walks away with her head held down and her eyes stinging from the tears shed.
She once again finds herself holed up in the bathroom, disinfectant in hand.
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As the years pass her by, nothing truly changes. Her father only drives himself deeper into alcohol and soon he is taking out all his pent up anger on Trinity. No matter how un-called for or unfair. Her mother gets worse in her own way as well. She often stays out late into the night and some nights doesn’t come home at all. When she does arrive she is always heavily intoxicated and often followed by the scent of a strange cologne.
At school is a whole other hell. Every day is the same for Trinity. Wake up, go to school, skip morning classes, get lunch, get lunch stolen, skip afternoon classes, hide from bullies, get found by bullies, get beaten by bullies, go home, get scolded for being home late, clean up, get beaten by dad, clean up, and cry to sleep.
Nothing ever changed for her unless it was for the worst. Until one day of her 11th grade year.
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Trinity arrived at school that day, ready for the same old schedule, but when it came time for her to be beaten something felt off. He pushed her to the ground but she didn’t cry right away. It was as if her brain were telling her to hold out just a bit longer. And then he showed up. A short, skinny boy with a cute toothy grin and thick rimmed black glasses. He wore a baggy hoodie with a cat covering the front of it. The hoodie engulfed his figure, so much it made him seem even smaller than he was.
When he finally caught sight of her his grin faded and his demeanor darkened. As if his very being was shifting. He approached the bully from behind and gave a surprisingly strong kick into the bully’s back, sending him stumbling forward. He whipped his head around clearly intending to give this new kid a thorough beating, but just before he could touch him, the kid landed a hard punch straight to his nose. He stumbles back once more and finally takes the hint and runs off.
Throughout this whole ordeal, Trinity could only think of one thing, ‘who is this new kid?’
As if on cue, the strange boy approaches her with an outstretched hand, once again wielding a toothy grin. “I’m Elijah!”
She forces an alien smile onto her face as she responds. “I’m Trinity.”
“So then Trinity, are you gonna explain to me what the heck just happened?”
“Uhhh, you just kicked ass?”
“No, no, no! Not that, though I am aware I must have looked epic in the process! But anyways, back to topic, I meant why did I have to kick his ass? Why was he attacking you?”
“It just kinda… happens. I’m used to it by now. It’s no big deal.”
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
“Because I’m weak. I mean look at me! I’m all skin and bones!”
He looks her dead in the eyes with a blank expression. “If you’re skin and bones then I’m already dead.”
Trinity lets out a small chuckle at his joke, though with his expression it is hard to tell if it was a joke. His smile however, quickly returns.
“Well,” he starts, “If that is your only reason for never fighting back, then how is it that I could fight them so easily? You just need a little confidence!”
“And how do you suppose I grow some confidence over night?”
“Easy! I have the perfect thing for you!”
She perks up just enough to see his hand enter his backpack(shaped like a black cat). When his hand returns he’s holding… a cat ear headband.
Trinity tilts her head in confusion. “This is your grand plan? Dress me up like a cat? Are you just trying to exert some sort of creepy fantasy on me?”
Elijah responds with a deep blush creeping up his entire face. “N-No! Nothing like that! It’s just-” He takes a deep breath and calms himself down. “Cats are awesome creatures! They seem so fragile and delicate but they have given me some of my worst scars! It’s supposed to be like… a symbolism I guess? Something to remind you to stand up for yourself even if you think you are too small or weak. J-Just like me!”
Trinity looks up, finally meeting his gaze, and takes the headband. She positions it on her head and gives a real genuine smile. The first real smile she has given in years and it is returned with a genuine smile from Elijah as well.
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That was the beginning of their story and the true beginning of hers. That year passed in a flash. The first few months were more bearable for Trinity. She had someone she could talk to and someone who would fight for her if need be.
After the first few months of him standing up for her, she eventually began standing up for herself. And she never removed her headband. It was like a crown to her. Tangible proof that those past few months with Elijah were not a dream. For Trinity, it was pure bliss. She had a real friend. And she was learning to fight her own battles. Her life was finally turning around. She had found her reason for living. With time she used up less bandages and disinfectant. She smiled more and more often. And she eventually became able to open up to Elijah.
Over time however, Trinity began to realize her feelings for Elijah may have run deeper than just friends.
She made a decision the day that she realized her true feelings for him. She was going to tell him she liked him. And she was gonna do it on her 18th birthday.
Eventually that week passed and she was still too scared to tell him. What if he didn’t like her and their friendship was ruined? After all, she couldn’t lose her one and only friend because of something as silly as love.
She fought that thought until she finally worked up the courage to confess to him.
Unfortunately this story does not end with a happily ever after…
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The night before her confession she stayed up late obsessing over how he could respond before inevitably drifting to sleep.
Suddenly she was standing in a dark alley behind the school. A familiar alley way yet this time something was… different. The air was heavier than usual and the concrete beneath her feet was stained and sticky with a metallic scented substance. Then she realized what it was. Blood. She was standing in a puddle of blood. Yet she was unharmed.
A scream came from behind her. An ear piercing scream. The kind strong enough to shatter glass. She didn’t recognize the scream but something in her gut told her who it was. She hesitantly turned around only to see… Elijah’s body. Lifeless on the ground. Blood pooling from his guts. And as she looked down with tear filled eyes, she felt a metallic sting in her hand. She was holding blood covered scissors.
No she thought, this had to be a dream, a very, very, very, bad dream. She hadn’t just killed her one and only friend. Her first love. It was impossible. There was another explanation for this! There had to be!
And out of nowhere she was back in reality. Desperately gasping for air. “Oh thank god… it was just a bad dream.”
She immediately grabs at her headband sitting on her bedside table. It gives her a sort of comfort as she caresses the soft ear.
That may have been a weird dream but she was not going to let it ruin her day or her confession to Elijah!
As she got dressed she couldn’t ignore a strange feeling. She felt as if something horrible was about to happen. But she knew if she did let it bother her it would only affect her confession in a negative way. So she ignored it. That was her first mistake.
She arrived at their normal meeting but saw no trace of Elijah. Her sense of dread only increased the longer she waited to no avail.
Eventually she began to search the school. She looked on the roof hoping he just wanted some fresh air. She checked his classroom in case he actually attended class today. She even checked the boys bathroom. But she still couldn’t find him. Eventually she grabbed her bag from her locker and stuffed it with some art supplies. If he had stayed home then she could still make him a card and slip it in his locker so he’d see it the next day.
She walked out behind the school despite her gut telling her to turn around and run away. But she was no coward anymore. She would not let a silly bad dream get to her head. But that thought was abruptly cut off as she took in the scene behind the building.
Blood. Just like in her dream. So much blood. Splattered on the wall and pooling at her feet. A familiar face seemed to be the source of the blood. Elijah.
And overtop his body stood Jason Peters. He held the bloodied boy up by his hair. Laughing like a maniac.
Suddenly she could hear a voice. An almost inconceivable voice. Whispering to her. “Kill him Trinity. Kill him.” They grew louder, and louder, and louder. “Trinity kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Look what he did! He deserves it!” No, she couldn’t do that. She could not take a life no matter how deserved it may be.
As Jason threw down Elijah's limp body, Trinity saw red. She reached deep into her art bag and grabbed out a pair of sharp scissors.
Jason hadn't realized she was behind him until he felt her breath down his neck. But by then it was too late. He tried to turn around to meet her eyes but she sliced the back of his neck before he could fully turn. Blood spewed from his neck. Gushing onto her uniform but she didn’t care. He had hurt her only friend and that had broken her.
A voice suddenly spoke in a low tone. “T-Trinity… how… c-could you?” It was Elijah. He was alive!
Elijah pushed himself to his knees, coughing up blood.
Trinity bent down to his level but he pushed her away. “Elijah-”
“Save it… and get away from me! You- You killed a man!”
“But Elijah! I killed him for you! He hurt you! He deserved it!”
“No Trinity! No one deserves that fate… not even him.”
“But Elijah! I-I love you!”
“I’m sorry… but I can’t love you. I could never love a killer. Get away from me Trinity. I’m calling the cops and getting him an ambulance."
Trinity was quiet for a moment. Her heart had just been broken into a million tiny pieces. She was snapped from her trance by the sound of ringing. Before anyone could answer she slapped the phone from his hand and sent it smashing into oblivion.
“Trinity… What are you-”
She cuts him off with a finger pressed against his lips. Tears stream down her face and she meets Elijah's terrified gaze. “I can’t let you do that…” she says in a low voice. She takes her scissors and slowly brings them to his neck, whispering her final words to him, “I’m sorry.”
And then it was all over. Elijah lay there lifeless on the ground. Blood stained her uniform and her hands. Tears streaked her face. Why can’t I stop crying?
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