I think I realised what was really going on when several punches came at Dylan. I watched in shock as Dylan threw himself into the boys, using all the power he could.

But they were too strong and too fast.

When he got slammed back into the wall, I started to scream.

"Stop it!" I yelled, jumping into action. The group that had once huddled around me to watch carelessly and heartlessly as I was bullied was quickly dispersing, not wanting to get caught. But if the boys didn't stop fighting soon, we would be.

"Stop!" I shouted again, watching Charlie hail a punch at Dylan. "Please!" But when I tried to stop him, he simply discarded me, shoving me over. I tripped and landed on the floor, where I hit my head. It was then that Dylan lost all control as if he hadn't already.

I jumped up quickly, though, pressing a palm to his chest to stop him.

Suddenly, Alessia had taken over. Perhaps her fear was too strong, and I was getting lost under piles and piles of punches. The fight had reminded her of the physical abuse she endures at home from her dad, and she was shaking violently.

Dylan stopped, glancing down at her with a worried expression on his face.

Charlie and Jake suddenly backed away. "Come try us again when you have more fight in you."

Dylan and Alessia stood in silence for a while, both with laboured breath, and both looking at each other.

"You're bleeding." She told Dylan, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a packet of tissues. She hesitantly began to dab at his wounds, soaking up the blood.

"How's your head?" Dylan asked, taking the tissue from her hand.

She felt dizzy, so she knew that it wasn't good. She reached up, placing her palm to the back of her head. "Sore." She simply responded.

When he was kind of cleaned up, Dylan guided her out of the room, "Come on," he said, "let's go—I'll drop you home so that you can ice your head."

In the back of Alessia's mind, she could remember that Dylan was supposed to be giving Olivia a lift back to her house. But then, she didn't really care all that much.

When Dylan and Alessia walked out of the school's exit, though, Olivia was nowhere in sight.

I remembered this day. I had waited for Dylan for twenty minutes, but I didn't want to call or text him too much. I was upset after the test, knowing for definite that I had failed. I was feeling panicked and simply couldn't wait any longer before the tears began to spill. I suppressed the sobs until I got home, which I had to walk for half an hour to, but I really needed Dylan at that moment.

But then, so did Alessia. I just didn't know that then.

The journey to Alessia's was silent, and Dylan would take his hand off the wheel every now and again to press the tissue to his nose, where blood was spilling out.

When Dylan had pulled up outside her house, he said, "You should ice your head as soon as possible and lie down—but don't sleep, not until you're certain you don't have a concussion. If you have any problems, let me know." He said, eyes filled with concern as he watched Alessia.

She nodded silently, glancing down at her clasped hands in her lap. When she spoke next, it was only in a whisper. "Thank you, Dylan," she said, "you didn't have to do that."

Dylan had no response, and Alessia gave him a small smile when she glanced up at him. And then she leaned in. She pressed a cautious kiss to his cheek, before pulling back and opening the passenger door to leave.

Alessia thought she had left Dylan stunned and was proven right when she saw his car linger across from her drive longer than it needed to. She felt an emptiness when he left as if she had fused the pair of them together. She was getting attached, she realised, but it was hard not to.

Alessia unlocked her front door cautiously, but the house was silent. She relaxed slightly, closing and locking the door behind her as she crept in.

She ran for the stairs, dashing into her room and locking herself away. When she got there, I broke free, taking over her life once more. I exhaled. And then I started to cry.

I was confused, in pain, and scattered in fragments. I wasn't sure if I was Olivia Clark or Alessia Trent, or perhaps neither. Or even if I was alive—was this just a dream? Just a trick? Surely not. I didn't have to pinch myself to know that I was really here—I had mental and physical scars to prove that I was.

I took deep breaths, trying to rid myself of everything that burdened me. When that didn't quite work, I buried myself under the covers on my bed, even though they were thin since the temperatures never ceased to rise.

I held my limbs close to my body, shutting my eyes and inhaling and exhaling slowly. Living as a starring role in Alessia's life hurt; I couldn't imagine what living it firsthand, with no one to take control of your body when you're too in pain to go on, is like.

When I felt calmer, I unearthed Alessia's phone from where it had disappeared into her covers. But it was a mistake, of course. The bullies never left, and there was already a never-ending stream of horrible messages piling up on Alessia's lock screen. It was no wonder that she hadn't just thrown it in a river and been done with it all.

I couldn't help but read them all. When I had first seen them, I had merely glanced over the beginnings of each insult. But I wanted to dig deeper; I wanted to understand Alessia and her life.

'Why do people like you? Oh wait, they don't 😂😂😂'

'Fix your face darling xx'

'Ewww why do you look like that 🤢'

'Wash maybe??'

'Your hair is absolutely disgusting. Dye it or chop it. Do something'

'Stop breathing'

'Heard you've been slutting around. Not surprised'

'Matt's spreading your nudes but no one wants to look at them because of how ugly you are 🤣'

'Fix ur face'

'Your figure is non-existent'

'Why do you look like an albino 😂😂😂 the sun exists ffs!!!'

'Ugly and dumb'

There were so, so many more. Most were explicit and detailed ways in which Alessia should end her life.

I could never understand how someone could be so incessantly rude. How was it a universal idea that Alessia, or some other innocent person, deserves a life this hated? Who sparked the flame? And where does it end?

I refused to accept that Alessia's hatred for me came from this. I would have never started something so hateful, so loveless and soulless. It was beyond me. At least, that's what I thought. Alessia saw me in a completely different light.

She saw me as a mastermind. I controlled 'my girls', I gave them orders and they never let me down. But there was just one flaw in Alessia's understanding of me—Olivia Clark had never done such thing, I knew this for certain, and I couldn't control everyone; it wasn't just 'my girls' that hurt Alessia. Alessia knew this, but she still had some strange, undefined hatred for me, for Olivia Clark.

And that's how I fell asleep. Phone in hand, malicious words in my head, and anger and pain coursing through my body.

________________________________

legit edited this so fast bc I wanted some free time before my shower

and it's slowly decreasing by the minute 😭😭

Imma blast

-z00000000m

FABULOUS SONGS

Songs that played when I was writing this chapter (in order):
Daydream - Ruelle
Words - Skylar Grey
better off - Ariana Grande
Call Out My Name - The Weeknd (💔)
Prayer-lude - Naomi Scott

END OF FABULOUS SONGS

(I wrote this chapter in 20 minutes ?? 😶 – 05/03/19 HAPPY PANCAKE DAY BTW YUMMYYY)

Date written:
11/10/18

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Next update: Saturday
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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE SPOILER:

It's true, Alessia's life is no Ball.

But maybe, for one night, it could be.

🕊

CHAPTER COUNT UNTIL THE END OF THE BOOK:
eight & epilogue