Josh Foster

Monday was a drag, every part of it had me either cringing externally or willing imminent death on myself, or more probably both.

By the time today rolled around however, I felt as though it may be a little better.

The walk to school was a mess of cool air and powerful wind, which already settled the day off to a vividly bad vibe.

As I headed through the halls, I was caught up in a mess of "heys" and nods, greeting a couple of guys on the football team, their lettermen's jackets a resemblance to my own.

My locker approached me, but the constant wash of anxiety that had settled over me during the last few days made it almost unbearable to flick the digits on my combination code.

My hands fumbled with the lock, and a light clicking sound in the distance grew more and more noticeable, growing louder as I opened up the locker door.

I hurried as quickly as I could, attempting to collect my books before she managed to slither my way.

A light tap was placed on my shoulder, for fucks sake.

"Josh, I think we outta talk..." Her voice was hushed, but it didn't distract from the fact that every set of eyes in the halls were planted firmly on us.

Her fiery red hair was in loose curls, as it always was, and she had a blue and grey jacket on, one exactly like mine, except it wasn't mine because mine was on me.

She was wearing his jacket.

"Not when you have that on we don't." I snap, nodding toward the '09' on her shoulder, an entirely different number to my regular '87'

She sniffed, and that's when I caught sight of her eyes; I hadn't seen Anabel without a thick layer of precisely blended makeup since we were about thirteen, and she always had a gorgeous demeanour about her, but today she was different.

Her sarky personality still stood rooted, but her eyes were cold, yesterdays mascara blended into a slovenly layer of concealer, and she looked dead inside.

for a second, I felt empathetic, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her tighter than I ever had before, but then I remembered who I was talking to.

she had done this to herself, I was in this god-awful position and Anabel Sheridan had dropped me right there in it.

"Talk to Deon, Annie, I don't have time for this," I uttered, my voice was gravelly, and by the look on her face she could tell that I was on the verge of tears, and by the way the whites of her eyes glistened a little more than usual, there was an implication that the feeling was mutual.

I headed out into the first period, my dreaded frenemie, AP geometry.

The class fell silent as I headed in, and suddenly I wanted to smash my head against the window to the left of me.

I was a little smarter than all of my guy friends, and so the class was filled mainly with people I wasn't close with, but I couldn't work out whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I settled down in a seat that wasn't my own, avoiding the backlash that came with sharing a desk with senior year's biggest gossip and avoiding eye contact with my very confused new seat partner.

I kept my eyes on my desk, but I could feel other people staring boring into me.

Pulling my books from my bag, I set them out in front of me and lifted my head for just a second as I took my pen from my jacket pocket.

In that mere second, I made uncomfortable eye contact, which made me want to gouge my own eyeballs out with a spoon.

Stood in the doorway was Deon Tyler, a smug smirk on his face, the tugged-out corner of his smile reaching the shiner placed on the inner corner of his right eye, stretching over the bridge of his nose, which was in a sort of bandage.

He looked shit, but he was managing to own it.

Suddenly rage filled my body, and all I could do was repeatedly run over me opening that door, of her bare thighs stretched over his own, a tangled mess.

I felt sick again.

Deep breaths, Josh, cmon man.

Part of me felt pathetic, because I knew that this was the exact reaction he wanted to draw from me, and I was giving him everything he ever fucking wanted.

He had my girl, and I was dropped into the shit, discarded.

As per usual.

I was harnessed back into reality by my professor repeating my name, her sharp tongue calling on me, and I hadn't listened to a word she had said.

"Uh, I don't know, sorry." I shrugged, my breath was shaky, which was its usual way now, and I heard not the words but simply the scoff and the drowned-out tone of Deon, making some sort of crude remark.

I was done for.

Red pooled through my mind, eyes filling with fire, suddenly I was right in front of him, and then I wasn't, because he was on the floor.

His head collided with the tiled floor, and it took each and every part of my soul to hold back from kicking the shit out of him right there and then, when he was weak and defenceless, just as he made me feel, but I didn't.

The teacher yelled something about someone coming for something, but I felt no need to stay.

I hopped back over to my desk briskly, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and uttered a quick "Gotta dash miss, see ya!" before hurrying out of the halls.

Due to it being mid-morning and mid-period, the halls were practically empty, littered only with the occasional straggler on a slightly too long bathroom break or just skipping class all-together.

I spun the corner, rushing along, but I was met with a strange noise, one reflecting that of what I had heard not too long ago.

Maddie.

Maddox Richard's sat with her back leaning against a locker, squeezed in between a trashcan and a row of lockers, she looked so small, so fragile.

"Mads?" My brows furrowed, and her eyes glazed over as she became aware of my presence.

She hopped up, wiping her eyes and taking a steep inhale of breath, tugging on the cuffs of her baby blue hoodie as she smiled at me.

"J, how's it going!" she smiled, and my heart shattered.

"Mad, what are you doing out here." I stepped toward her a little, but she backed up, meeting the trash can.

I threw my arm out just in time, catching her and pulling her back up, steady on her feet.

"Just needed something from my locker."

She was still maintaining that glossy smile, but I knew her well enough to know that every aspect of it was fictitious, it didn't meet her eyes.

"Your lockers on the other side of campus, Mad..." my voice was quiet.

Maddie had been in school almost every day since the party, which although probably seemed pretty standard, was a telltale sign for Mad because she hadn't been in 5 days in a row since we were about eleven.

She didn't talk.

I felt awful, she was visibly humiliated.

"How about me and you take a little walk huh, I don't got nowhere better to be." I smiled, pulling a cherry sucker from my pocket and offering it out to her, a routine we had had since we were kids, and I still kept two on my person at all times, just in case.

She chuckled slightly at my offer, pulling the straps of her black backpack tighter around her shoulders, and gripping them as we began to walk.

We strolled in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before reaching our preferred hangout spot which we had acclaimed as ours in sophomore year.

We settled under the bleachers, and she brought her knees up to her chest, settling her elbows on them, her face balancing between them.

It was almost as if she was trying to block me from seeing her, and I couldn't think why.

"Mad, you do know I'm here to talk right." I double-checked.

She nodded, her throat bobbing and her eyes flitting around.

"I uhm, I don't know what you think I'm going to say, and I know you might not wanna talk, but you don't have to hide from me, Maddox, I'm here."

A tear rolled silently along her rosy cheek.

"Josh." her words were small, and her sheltered exterior came to an easy falter as a string of water cascaded from the whites of her eyes.

"I don't think I can do this anymore." she sobbed, shaking as she wrestled with her body, they fought between the idea of letting her guard down, and it was impossible to tell who was on which side.

I let her talk, I knew from experience that sometimes it was better to listen than to talk.

"It's not fair, Josh. It's not fair that he gets to do this and I have to feel like this but he strolls around like he's king of the castle."

I hand her a water bottle, her breath hitches in her throat, and she's scared.

"People look at me like I'm shit, everyone's avoiding me... He's the one who cheated on me!" she was yelling slightly, or she would be if the tears hadn't dropped her voice down a few decibels.

"He gets to do all that, he gets clapped for, and I get the word slut written on the front of my house, and what's worse is that when he asked me to come over yesterday, I said yes."

I shuffle toward her, wrapping my arms around her.

Maddie hated physical touch, she hated the idea of someone touching her without giving warning first, but it was a rule that had become irrelevant between the two of us in time.

She melted into my touch, and I could feel her sobbing.

There was still a neat array of white stitches along the top of her forehead.

He hurt her.

And there was no doubt in my mind that he had probably done it before.

That she had been in this exact position before because that's the type of person that Deon Tyler was.

That she was alone, that she was vulnerable, and he lapped it up like a kitten and a bowl of milk.

He will have taken advantage of her each and every time.

But Maddox is the type of girl who sees only the best in everyone, it was what made her one of the best people I knew.

She will have gone back each time, gaslighting herself into believing it was a one-time thing, and there was nobody there to help her.

When she pulled away from me, her face was red and puffy, masking the reddish-purple bruises plastered on both the bottom of her chin and the slit above her eyebrow.

"Why does he get the right to do this to me, why is he sitting in that classroom, laughing and smiling, and I'm out here hiding from him.

"Mad, You owe him nothing, he did a bad thing, and he needs to pay for what he did, you shouldn't reap the consequences of his shitty judgement, and you shouldn't ever have been in this situation, ever."

She nodded slowly, then took a moment, as if she was attempting to convince herself of my words.

The bell rang, and she asked me to walk her home, and I did.