Epiones' POV
"What a nice day," I whispered, a mantra I had subconsciously adopted to survive. I stood before my locker, organizing my belongings with practiced care. As I closed the metal door, a pair of slender arms wound around mine. I turned to see a girl a few inches taller than me, looking down with a playful, coy smile and wiggling eyebrows.
By the time I realized she wasn't alone, it was too late. Four of her friends, all imposing and wearing masks of performative friendliness, had already surrounded me. I looked back at the leader, and her next words made my soul deflate.
"Hey there. Rooftop. now."
After getting dragged with brute force, we reached the rooftop, the sunlight burns my face, but it offers no warmth. The only sounds on this secluded rooftop are the rhythmic, agonizing whack of a lasso and the sharp, heavy thwack of wooden rods striking the meat of my back. Each impact is a localized explosion, sending vibrations that rattle my very core and leave my thighs trembling uncontrollably,
Seems like their frustrations are being transferred onto me again.
The heavy clinking of the chains on my wrists and ankles provides a cold, industrial soundtrack. a haunting contrast to the peaceful stillness of the morning.
The only "human" sounds are the amused, psychotic laughs of the five girls. They beat me with the calculated precision of craftsmen, careful not to break their favorite toy too early. I can do nothing but whimper, my vision blurring as salty tears track through the dust on my cheeks.
They gave me an objective before the session began:
"Listen here, little rat. Count every whip, strike, and whop. If you lose track… you're going into the public toilet."
I counted. I counted through the searing heat and the encroaching numbness, because the thought of being drowned in filth again was the only thing more terrifying than the rods. Between the strikes, I felt the invasive, lingering touch of their hands pinching my skin, pulling my hair, and mockingly "adjusting" my clothes as if I were a doll.
"Let's see if we can leave a mark where the teachers won't look," one whispered, her hand sliding roughly against my ribs. "You're just a filthy little stray, aren't you? Maybe after we're done with the rods. The sewer is your best choice of home, try it"
Finally, they stopped, heaving sighs of exertion as if they were the ones suffering.
"Did you manage to count them all?" the leader asked, hovering over me like a vulture.
"Y-yeah," I whispered, supporting my voice with a weak nod.
"Count."
"40 whips from the l-las...s-so," I gasped, the pain radiating in waves. "190 whops f-from the f-flogger. 3-30 strikes from the r-rod."
"Good dog," she smirked. She ground her shoe into my face, smudging me with the grit from the concrete while I lay there, whimpering in the dirt. "It seems like you can count. No toilet water for you today. You're dismissed."
They unchained me and left, their laughter echoing down the stairwell. I collapsed onto the concrete, sobbing until there was nothing left. I am not a nerd, nor am I a rebel. I am just a girl who is not rich, has no power, and no authority. I am an outcast. And even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't. My parents are gone, divorced and abandoned me for their new families. All I have left is my "loving" uncle. At home, he is no different, spending my part-time job money on alcohol and using me as his personal punching bag when the mood strikes him.
...
I managed to limp to the infirmary, hoping to treat my wounds before class to avoid infection and the inevitable "it's your fault for being near them" lecture from the teachers. I knocked three times before slipping inside.
"Come in! Oh, Epione! How are you… wait, what happened?!"
It was Eunoia, my batchmate. She volunteers for the Warm Hearts Club, promoting social harmony and basic medicine.
"I tripped on a stone and rolled down eight flights of stairs," I lied.
"Your face is terrible at lying," Eunoia said sternly. "Stop the excuses. Who did this?"
"It's the usual girls," I muttered. "Just… a little earlier than usual."
Eunoia sighed, a sound of pure frustration. "You could fight back, Epione. Or tell the authorities."
"Their parents are the authorities, Eunoia. If they get suspended, they'll just hunt me down outside. It's a cycle."
She clicked her tongue and helped me remove my top to treat the bruises. Despite the pain, I felt safe with her. She handed me a green bear plushie with a four-leaf clover on its stomach.
"Bear with it," she said with a small smile.
"I didn't know you were so... punny," I managed to joke, the laughter hurting my ribs but warming my chest.
...
I made it to Health Education just as Professor Croffer began his lecture.
"Ah, Ms. Paramnesia," he said with a light chuckle, seeing me drenched in sweat and hunched over. "Glad you could join us. I was just a few minutes late myself. Take a seat."
I slunk to the back, my back screaming with every movement. As the professor explained the difference between pulmonary and systemic circulation, something hit my shoulder. A crumpled piece of yellow pad paper.
I looked up. A new girl was waving at me. When she stood up, I saw that she was tall, slender, and possessed a smile that seemed to have silenced the entire room earlier.
"Good morning, sir," she said when the professor noticed her. Her accent was a perfect blend of Tokyo and Canada. "My name is Katsura Chizuru. I am the exchange student from Japan."
The class erupted in whispers about her beauty, her skin, and her height. I ignored them, my focus on the note she had thrown. Curiosity made me open the paper.
Hi! My name is Katsura Chizuru. I noticed you sitting alone and thought, why not ask you to be my friend? You seem trustworthy and kind, like an innocent flower in a garden of thorns. It's a weird way to ask, but... 'Would you like to be my friend?'
[ ] YES [ ] I GUESS [ ] I'LL THINK ABOUT IT [ ] NO
P.S. Write your name here so I can give you a cute nickname!
A smile crept onto my lips. For the first time, someone wanted me. Not as a toy, but as a person. But then, I thought of the rooftop. I thought of the chains. If she stands by me, they will break her too.
I fished out my pen and checked 'NO'.
I slid the paper back under her desk while she was out for a break. It hurt to do it, but I couldn't let her into my miserable world. I spent the rest of the break finishing the Calculus homework three bullies had shoved onto my desk, my fingers cramping as I churned out numbers.
When the class returned, I saw Chizuru pick up the note. From the corner of my eye, I saw her shoulders slump. A heavy sigh of disappointment escaped her.
It's for the best, I told myself.
But the peace didn't last. The door slammed open. Ms. Persophiona, the teacher, marched in alongside the Head Counselor, who looked absolutely livid.
"Miss Paramnesia!" the Counselor barked.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Me? What did I do?