"Beshrow me, but do I love her heartily! For she is wise, if I can be judge of her; And fair is she, if that mine eyes be true; And true she is, as she hath proved herself; And like herself, wise, fair and true; Shall she be placed in my constant soul." ---Lorenzo (The Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The senior girl sneered at her before kicking her in the gut. The image was blurry as she tried to focus on the girl standing in front of her limping form, flipping her hair and snickering at her pathetic form. She tried to regain footing but it was only an attempt. Before she could even block, the older girl slapped her hard and her face crashed on the wall. As she slid to the ground, the world became dark. They laughed at her. Everyone from the girl's clique spat at her pale face. They teased about how the mighty had crumbled to her knees. Now she knows how to place herself. The famous kawaii freshman. Not just another handsome face that of a girl. The top-ranking high school crush in this exclusive school for girls. The victor slapped her again before turning away. "You slut! Fuck you to hell!" Dark blue eyes shattered as she wrapped herself in her arms, her head buried in between her folded knees. Knuckles closed, her hands clutching at her sleeves. A girl from the crowd approached her and knelt at her side while the watching horde of fangirls held their breaths. The girl embraced the sobbing girl and whispered to her words of comfort. The crying girl lifted her head and turned to look at the kind soul who gathered her in her arms. Her eyes widened as she made out who the person was. It was the girl both she and the senior student wanted, and she loved. Marina… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She woke up with a fast beating heart. "It was just a dream… just a dream…" She took deep, ragged breaths and wiped her sweaty face with a blanket. Her clammy hands went on scrubbing her tense face then combed her dark hair into place. Her shoulders shook and tears soaked the blankets in her hands. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it across the room. She screamed. At least she tried to. The pillow knocked down a picture frame on top of a shelf. A picture of her and her braided friend named Duo Maxwell. "Damn it all," she whispered harshly. It wasn't a dream nor a nightmare. It was a fragment of her past. Her painful, oh so painful past… She stared at the ceiling for an eternity as she could not get hold of sleep. No matter how hard she tried to run, no matter how hard she tried to hide, her hurt, her shame, her chains of the past always haunted her. It was so hard to be free of the sadistic pain. She could not let go. Hilde Schbeiker could not let go.
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