(REWRITING) The Skylar Experiment : Coveting

Chapter Two - Miles Spencer

EMMA

I OPENED MY LOCKER to see my expression in the magnetic mirror. Without at least some mascara or a tinted lip balm, I looked like a ghost.

Dark circles stretched taut underneath my eyes in the reflection. I took down the mirror and shoved it at the bottom of my locker.

I stared at my inspiration board, at all the pretty skirts I'd cut up from magazines and all the sketches I'd drawn, promises of greatness I'd made to myself since I was a little girl:  that one day, I would be able to make something that nice, something I could be proud of.

I hadn't been able to create a single scrap of clothing since that awful night, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I'd force myself just to escape the loud thoughts and the night terrors.

Anger crept up, and I flat-out ripped apart the pictures pinned on the door of my locker. Every single one. 

The hall was empty. Everyone ate in the cafeteria. We didn't eat too often outside as the weather got colder. Fighting back tears, I dumped the stupid papers in the recycling bin, pressure building up in my chest.

I closed my locker and rushed to the bathroom before any roaming student would see me cry. I loathed the oncoming crying fits. They ruined my entire day, robbing me of any control. On the days I actually felt okay, it really sucked.

The only thing I knew to do was find a deserted place and stay there until it subsided.

As I slammed the stall door, jitters swarmed my skin like an army of ants. I relived Martin Miller's hands squeezing me in places he shouldn't, the rough bark of a tree scraping at my back, his lips forcefully trying to press onto mine. His mouth reeked of beer. I fought and slapped, telling him to get off of me.

His hand started creeping up my dress.

Then bright eyes, claws and sharp teeth flashed in the darkness. I was being dragged across the muddy soil, deeper and deeper in the forest. I tried to hold onto a branch or a root, but the pull was far too strong.

Martin's screams caused me to witness another Wanderer on top of him, and my stomach clenched so hard I wanted to vomit. Drew had never gotten to finish what he started.

Next thing I knew, my prom date was a part of the seven victims that died that night.  I remembered every excruciating moment I spent in the coma, unable to speak or to move. I remembered hearing voices—my parent's hysteric crying—and beeping machines, syringes poking at my veins. The doctors were appalled, saying they've never seen anything like it.

I could only focus on the pain. Days of unspeakable pain at sea, far from the shore of voices. There was only this tunnel darkness sucking me in. If that was what came before death, I didn't want to know where the tunnel led. But the dampness and the cold, it pressed into my skin, everpresent. 

I resisted the urge to scratch myself raw. I breathed, leaning against the door of my stall. I didn't understand how I became a slave of my memories, all I knew was that they controlled me. 

My phone buzzed.

Jen wanted to know on behalf of everyone where I was, and if I was okay. I wiped a tear and wrote that I was reading at the library, that I needed some down time. They respected that. It was the ideal excuse.

I eventually gathered scattered bits of courage and walked out of the bathroom, right after making sure it didn't look like I'd bawled my eyes out.

I bent down to drink at the fountain when a boy appeared with his water bottle.

It was the new guy, that teacher's son. I didn't pick up on his name, just that Riley hated his dad.

"Hey," he said after I was done.

I forced a smile. The boy moved in front of the fountain and pressed his thumb against the pushbutton, leaning his bottle at an angle. I scanned the details of his appearance.

He was lanky and tall. Despite being thin, muscles defined his arms, shoulders and chest. His hair ended above his shoulders in slight, golden waves, but it didn't appear shaggy. In fact, it seemed well trimmed. He wore a leather jacket over his plaid shirt.

Hazel eyes peered at me curiously, probably because I hadn't answered.

"Hi," I replied meekly.

My mind was wasted of conversation topics. I used to be so talkative.

"You're in my History class, right?" he asked.

"I think so."

The boy flashed a quick grin, and it looked nice on him. Friendly. "I was hoping you could give me some pointers on the project. I've asked a few, but so far, no one's actually helped. Are you still searching for a team mate, by any chance?"

No one wanted to pair with me anymore. I was a freakshow. And neither did I want them to, but I had to find someone sooner or later if I wanted a grade.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm still searching for someone. I guess we could do it together."

He rotated the lid on his bottle and outstretched his hand to me. "I'm Miles Spencer, by the way. I don't think we've met before."

I shook his hand. "Emma Briggs."

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Good morning, everyone. Meet our brand new character in the story :) What do you think of him so far? Any predictions on his role in the story? Also, what do you think about having Emma's POV throughout the book? The sequel is going to be divided between Riley and Emma, so this is not a one-time special chapter. 

Does the emotional damage feel real so far? I think we can agree this isn't super intense presented this way, but it's going to be a constant in the book and this is the first glimpse. Of course, I had to add gasoline on the fire with the song XD

See you next Wednesday!