Going Under by S. Walden

Yes, just like Ryan, I
decided to claim her for my own. It was instant possession because
I thought she was sweet and kind, and I wasn’t going to let any
bitch talk shit about her. Of course, maybe it was another Lucy,
but “Lucy” wasn’t a popular name. The Lucy I met didn’t seem like
the kind of girl described in that sentence. Why would someone
write that about her?
    I thought back to the few times I saw her
outside the classroom. She never walked or talked with anyone. She
was always alone, looking morose at worst, empty at best. She
didn’t have any friends. But why? I thought about the first day of
class when I bumped my head. She addressed me then. Why did she do
that? And then I realized it was because I was new. I didn’t know
her. It was safe for her to talk to me. Maybe, just maybe, she was
trying to make friends with me. At that moment I was filled with a
kind of tenderness usually reserved exclusively for my mother and
father. It was familial tenderness, but I felt it for this girl. I
wanted to adopt her as my sister, protect her, make her smile.
    I froze when I heard the bathroom door swing
open. A shuffling of feet, a sniffle, and then a racking sob. I
didn’t know what to do. Should I make my presence known by coughing
or clearing my throat? It was obvious the girl thought she was
alone. Who doesn’t check under stall doors to be certain of it?
    The sobbing continued for a few moments
before it stopped abruptly. I was sure she was still in the
bathroom. I didn’t hear the door open again. I realized I could be
stuck in here forever and thought it was better to just come out.
She would be mortified or pissed off, but I had to take that
chance.
    I flushed the toilet and walked out. The
girl whirled around to face me, a horrified look on her face.
    “Are you okay?” I asked.
    She stared at me for a moment. I didn’t
recognize her. She looked too young to be a senior, and I never saw
her in Hallway D, the senior hall.
    She made a move for the door, but I blocked
her.
    “Can I help in any way?” I asked.
    She looked at me, her large green eyes
swimming with fresh tears. She was so pretty and frightened. What
the hell? This was the second pretty, frightened girl I’d come
across in my first week of school. How many were there?
    I knew it would shake her to her core, force
her to relive a painful event all over again, but I had to ask.
“Did something bad happen to you?”
    She shoved me out of the way and exited the
bathroom, but not before answering me. She nodded. It was barely
perceptible, but she nodded.
    I left the bathroom after washing my hands,
shaken and stunned. Suddenly my eyes were everywhere taking in the
scene, scoping out the timid ones hanging in the shadows, wrapped
in shameful secrets. I knew they were here.
    I skipped lunch and left the senior hall for
another. I strolled the junior hall, looking for anything
suspicious or odd. I thought I saw her, hanging around a classroom
door, mustering the courage to go in. And another, standing by her
locker, furtive eyes darting to and fro, looking for a predator.
And another, slinking down the hallway quietly to avoid being seen.
And another, disappearing into the bathroom to cry away her
pain.
    Oh my God. I was going crazy! I clutched the
wall, taking deep breaths. I looked down the hallway. It was
distorted, students stretching and twisting in a circular pattern
as they passed by me. Like I had taken a hallucinogen and was
having a bad reaction. I didn’t know if my feet were still planted
on the ground or if I was hanging from the ceiling.
    I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the
field. But I couldn’t summon it. I breathed deeply, feeling pins in
my chest that pricked me harder the more I tried to suck down
oxygen. I opened my eyes to patches of darkness. I’m going
blind! I screamed, but no one heard. My mouth never moved. I
heard a distant, “Are you okay?” before the blackness swept me up
into a silent