Zelena.

I lifted my head slightly as the cool breeze brushed against my neck. My long raven hair waved gently with the breeze. It was a glorious morning, the air was still fresh and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun felt warm on my face as it struggled to shine through the trees. There is something about being outside alone that I have always loved. Most people around here are afraid of the forest and they don’t go near it, me on the other hand, I love the forest. The sound of the wind in the trees, the feel of fresh air on my skin and the faint smell of salt water. It makes me feel, I don’t know, free, I guess. I relish the time I get to spend outdoors, however short it is.

I live in a little fishing town in the far north of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, population of around two thousand people. The towns inhabitants are spread roughly twenty kilometres along the coast, there's the sea on one side, and thick forest on the other. We’re a little isolated but that’s how the locals like it. People in this town have lived here for generations, they never leave, and the ones that are lucky enough to get out, they don’t come back. The little town has all the basic necessities and people can usually find what they need in one of the few small stores. For what they can’t get, then they make the trip to one of the bigger cities, if you can call them that. Not that I have ever been, I have never left the island.

This short walk through the trees each day on my way to school, was my only solace in my otherwise hell of an existence. I would take short steps, slow steps, as if to make each passing second in the open air last longer. There are only a few weeks left of my last year of school and although every second of the last twelve years has been hell on earth, I shudder to think what will happen when it’s all over.

As I got to the black cast iron gates of the school, my small sense of freedom withered away. I looked at the dark brick walls and small windows and sighed, it was a prison. I pulled my hood up over my face, put my head down and made my way to the entrance. I pushed the heavy door open and puffed out a breath of relief, at least the hall was still empty. Majority of the other students were still in the car park, standing around and chatting with their friends until the bell rings. But not me, I prefer to go straight to my locker, shove my bag inside and wait at the door of my first class. If I get there before the halls fill up, I can usually avoid most of the morning abuse. Watching the kids marching through the hallways, I often let my mind wonder a little, what it could be like to have friends to stand around and chat with. It would probably be nice to have at least one friend in this shithole.

I lingered at my locker this morning, recounting the events of last night's beating. I closed my eyes and listened to my body. The parts of my shirt that stuck to the raw lashes on my back stung with each slight movement. The broken skin felt hot and tight under my clothes. The gash on my forehead was still throbbing, causing a headache to spread from my hairline and down to behind my ear. I did my best to cover it with makeup, but the foundation burned when I tried to rub it in to the open wound. So, I stuck a band-aid over it instead. The band-aid was plain skin colour anyway so it should blend in with my face OK. My dark, messy hair could sit across most of my face and my hoodie would cover the rest.

I suddenly became aware of the increased noise in the hallway behind me. The other kids had started coming in. Damn-it. I quickly closed my locker, bowed my head and started down the hallway to my first class. I quickly turned the corner and smashed face first into something hard. I fell backwards into the middle of the hallway, dropping my books as I tried to catch myself. The hall fell silent as I laid on my aching back, sprawled out on the floor. I clenched my eyes together, the pain spewing from my wounds was almost enough to make me gag.

“What a loser” I heard Demi snicker as she burst out laughing, the rest of the people in the hallway quickly joined in. I scurried onto my hands and knees, trying to gather my belongings in order to make my escape.

I reached for my notebook, but it wasn’t on the ground anymore. As I looked around for it, I froze. He was crouched down in front of me, his knees showing through his dark ripped jeans. I felt like I could feel the warmth radiating off him. He was not two feet away from me. I could smell him, his sweet sweat smelt like the air on a hot summer day. I breathed him in. Who is this?

“Sorry, is this yours?” he asked as he held out his arm with my book in his hand. His voice was soothing and velvety, smooth with a low rumble to it.

I snatched my book from his grip and began to stand up. I felt his big hands grab my shoulders and pull me upwards. The shock of his touch sent me falling back to the ground. I closed my eyes tight, turned my head into my arm and waited for him to hit me. The laughter in the hallway erupted again.

“Whoa” the mystery boy gasped as I cowered from him.

“She’s such a fucking freak” Demi cackled.

The pain I expected never came, he didn’t hit me, no one did. I peered out from under my hoodie as a tear rolled down my cheek. He had taken a step back, holding out his arms to pull with him the other kids that had gathered around to laugh at me.