Jack was not in a good mood that night. Thankfully, it had nothing personally to do with me. Unfortunately, if something — or someone — ticks him off at work, he comes home and takes it all out on me.

I'd made dinner — just an easy pasta dish — and set the table. He wasn't home yet, so I thought about taking a bowl for myself. The only food I ate today was an apple I'd snuck on my way out the door this morning. Making the noodles made me incredibly hungry.

Hurriedly, I grabbed a fork and as I was about to stab a sauce-covered noodle, the front door slammed open. Panicking, I threw the fork back in the drawer and cowered to the corner of the kitchen. He stomped his way in, ignoring the bowl of food on the table and trained his cold eyes on me.

I swallowed hard and looked at my sock covered feet, noticing how my toe stuck through a ratty hole.

"You know, Eirenae," he muttered, "some people just really piss me off!" I didn't even hear him close the distance before my head snapped back from the force of his fist. Sharp pain shot from the crown of my head as it hit the cabinet behind me. I steadied myself against the countertop and braced myself for the next blow.

It was the ribs. And then it was the jaw. Then the ribs again. I stopped keeping track after that. Silent tears escaped my face as he held my weight up by my ponytail. I pathetically grappled at his arms, the counter, the cabinet doors. Anything to hold myself up and release the pain in my scalp.

His voice was low, muttering things I couldn't pick up. Once in a while I'd catch the name of someone I didn't know. Work things. I was just serving as a way to get his anger out about people from work.

I didn't know how long he had me dangling in the air for. One hand was holding me up, the other was throwing punches, anywhere and everywhere. My head felt like it had tiny knives being driven into my scalp wherever my hair roots attached. I was convinced that at one point, my hair would just rip out and I'd be bald tomorrow.

The edges of my vision became blurry and I let out a shriek I was no longer able to hold back. Shocked, Jack let go and I crumbled to the hard, tiled floor. My wrist hit the countertop on the way down, making a sound I did not like.

My eyes swam in my head and I had to blink them several times in slow motion before I could even see my surroundings. Jack swiftly kicked my abdomen — one last time for good measure, I suppose — before grabbing his bowl of pasta and a fork to take to his room. Before he disappeared around the corner, he grumbled "you can eat the rest."

Funny. That was the nicest thing he'd said to me all month.

—

After my last mistake of going to school unkempt, I paused long and hard in the bathroom to focus on makeup and my outfit the following morning. I wore a sort-of-raggedy turtleneck sweater and jeans. Which were excruciating to climb into. My abdomen varied in shades of green and yellow and brown, and bending over or lifting a leg nearly made me double over.

On top of that, I was pretty sure my left wrist was at least sprained. Quite possible I broke it coming down on the countertop when he dropped me. I could barely stretch my fingers out, let alone bend my wrist.

My jaw was red, and disgustingly swollen. Covering that was difficult, but possible. Someone really paying attention might've noticed. Which, in my case, could actually be a problem. I hoped Jaycee wouldn't bombard me with questions about it.

My cheek was bruised, so I covered that up, as well as the spot just above my left eye. Good thing my injured wrist was on the left, otherwise applying makeup would be another added problem on the list today.

I couldn't lift my arms past my face, so I slowly leaned over and ran a comb through my hair a few times. I was left panting and decided that would have to suffice. I brushed my teeth and headed to the kitchen.

Jack was already up, which instantly made me tense and my heart pound. He was sitting at the table with a coffee mug reading a paper in front of him. He looked up as I shuffled to the fridge.

"You're getting better at the makeup thing."

Thanks. I mentally rolled my eyes. Really appreciate the compliment. On the outside, I just nodded tersely and pulled out two eggs.

"One is enough." He told me and I returned one of them to the carton. That was a sure sign as any that I wasn't eating this morning. At least I got pasta last night. Carbs were energizing and my body needed that.

I scrambled his egg and buttered a piece of toast, arranging them on a plate before placing it in front of him. He only acknowledged it by picking up the fork.

Quietly, I skirted around his chair to get out of the kitchen area and grabbed my backpack. I clenched my teeth to hide any sound of pain threatening to escape.

The entire walk, I awkwardly held my backpack with my right hand, knowing I might just crumple down in the middle of the road if I attempt to swing it onto my back. I hung my left hand limp, ignoring the throbbing of my wrist.

I realized Jack had already been awake at the table because getting ready had taken me so long that morning. So I was late for school. When I arrived, I had missed Homeroom — which I was planning to avoid anyway after Mrs. Holland's concern — and half of my science elective. I just waited in the hallways outside my Civics classroom the rest of the hour. That way, I could slip in when the bell rang.

Sydney was there today, getting to her seat only shortly after I did. Although, I took longer to walk there than she did. She nodded at me, but didn't smile. However, she must have noticed my discomfort because her eyebrows furrowed and she stared harder for a few moments before turning in her seat. Her eyebrows stayed creased most of the period.

I sat in a bathroom stall throughout lunch. This way, I didn't have to hang out with them, and they wouldn't find me by the trees outside. I did homework peacefully — well as peaceful as I could in the ladies bathroom trying not to shriek at every movement. No one came to find me.

Cole didn't show up to math. I didn't know what to make of that. I kept telling myself I didn't care. They shouldn't be my friends, I couldn't care about their whereabouts. Instead, I directed my focus to blocking out my pain and evening my breathing so I didn't sound like I was dying.

English was the same. Fortunately, no partner work today. Unfortunately, Jaycee sat next to me and looked like she had something to say every five seconds. I didn't meet her eye the entire hour, just tried to stay sitting up straight.

Of course, gym fell on the day after I was beat to a pulp. I could've survived class if I had it yesterday. Today? I might literally end up on the floor, dead by the time the bell rang.

Coach Gyver clapped his hands together and grinned. My stomach felt unsettled. He looked excited, which usually meant we were playing a game. Well, that will be the end of me!

"Alright everyone, Tuesday was volleyball, so today I thought we'd do some dodgeball." He tossed a rubber kickball to the group. Two hands shot up and grabbed it. The student stood up and I was surprised to find it was Cole. He walked to stand next to the coach, who nodded at him. "Captain." Mr. Gyver threw another one, right in my general direction. I ducked and clenched my teeth, preparing for the knife stab that was sure to come with the impact.

It never did, and when I looked up, a girl whose name I didn't know had grabbed it. She stood and walked to the front, her long brown ponytail swinging as she stepped. Mr. Gyver nodded. "Genevieve, Captain."

Then they started divvying us up. Cole picked Dexter, and then shot an "I'm sorry" look where he had come from. I craned my neck to see it was Sydney he was communicating with. She looked pissed.

Genevieve picked someone I didn't know. Then Cole walked over and grabbed Sydney's hand, pulling her up and bringing her back with him. It only just then occurred to me they might be together. How did someone as sweet as Cole get with Sydney?

The process went on, names being called left and right to join them. When my name was called, I snapped my head up in shock. Cole motioned me over and Jaycee grinned next to him encouragingly. Sydney didn't look so sure, but she didn't object, just shot Cole a look he ignored.

I slowly climbed to my feet, trying to hide how difficult it was for me to get out off the gym floor and not letting my wrist be used. I shuffled my way to Cole's team as Genevieve called out another name. Jaycee wrapped her arms around me in a hug that almost made me scream.

"Yay! Now we're all the same team! We're gonna crush them!"

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, gesturing to all of me. I was short, and incredibly skinny, no muscle on me at all. I didn't know why they picked me on purpose; I couldn't be a help here at all!

"Don't worry, you'll be good at dodging them" Ha! I could barely walk! Cole raised his hand to pat my shoulder and I, uncontrollably — and visibly — flinched backwards. He drew his hand back, looking very concerned. Sydney, always watching, got her furrowed eyebrow look back.

Before anyone could say anything, Mr. Gyver clapped his hands again. "Alright! Separate on either side of this line and get ready!" Jaycee was quiet for once as we walked over to our side, but she kept a curious eye on me the whole time. She offered a hand and when I didn't give it, she cautiously slipped hers in mine to squeeze before she retreated. That smallest little act of support and kindness was enough to blink back tears.

Before I was prepared, the whistle blew and the kickballs started flying. I whirled around to see one coming for me. Ducking, it went over my head, but my knee hit a tender spot on my rib cage, causing me to grunt softly.

I wasn't sure how, but Jaycee picked up on the sound and asked if I was okay. I gave a swift nod and nothing else, standing back up and watching for more I needed to dodge.

I watched as people from both sides got out, going to sit on the sides of the court until their teammates could earn them back in. I was impressed, though, with Jaycee and her friends. Their reflexes were insane! They never got hit, and they never missed an attempt at catching one thrown at them. It was almost unnatural.

"I'm surprised you're not catching them!" A voice said to my right, from the other side of Jaycee. Glancing over, I realized it was Dexter. I hadn't really spoken to him yet. I shot him a confused look, glancing at my hands — not to mention my injured wrist — and back to him.

He looked at me, Jaycee did too. Their facial expressions changed to one I assume matched mine. What did they mean? Did they really expect me to be able to catch these?

Another ball came flying and I jerked sideways, but that put me in the path of another one. I didn't even feel the impact. What's another punch to the face? I did however, feel my body hitting the ground. I did not register falling.

"Oh my goodness!" Jaycee shrieked and rushed to my side. Cole appeared too, grabbing my hand; that turned out to be my injured wrist. I yanked my hand from his — and that hurt more than him grabbing it in the first place. I brought it to my chest, pulling the sleeve over to cover the swelling and praying that they didn't notice.

A ball smacked Jaycee's leg and she flipped out on them. "Stop it! Can't you see someone knocked her over! The game isn't in play!"

The coach blew the whistle, starting his walk over. Dexter called for someone to get tissues, or paper towels, or anything really. Looking down, I realized why. My nose was bleeding. Great.

I tilted my head back, probably looking like an absolute mess at that moment. Someone shoved paper towels in my face and I grabbed them with my good hand, putting them against the base of my nostrils.

"It barely touched her, I swear!" I recognized Genevieve's voice claiming her case. The coach was talking with her. Jaycee looked ready to go throw a ball in her face.

"That's gotta hurt," she muttered to me.

Honestly, only my wrist was bothering me, and that wasn't even from the game. I shrugged and shook my head. That turned out to be the wrong response.

"But you're used to pain." Sydney stated quietly, but matter-of-factly. It was also the most sincere if heard her speak to me, or even about me.

I looked up to her blue eyes, and I knew she could tell my troubles went much deeper than not speaking.

Jaycee turned my head to look at her. "Eirenae." Her voice was soft, "you came to school a couple days ago looking like you'd just gone through a kickboxing tournament. Today, you get knocked over, and what appears to be a broken nose, from a rubber ball. And I know Genevieve didn't throw it that hard," she lowers her voice even further, "because I know that girl can't throw. She can catch, but that's it!" Whispering, she adds, "and our kind are naturally stronger than this." Her eyes looked so concerned I nearly wanted to burst into tears.

Despite everything, I cracked a small smile. Then I reminded myself we were discussing why I was hurt all the time and my smile dropped. Pausing, I recalled her last sentence. Our kind? If she meant human, then she needed a wake up call. Not everyone is born with crazy fast reflexes and an abundance of adrenaline.

"Eirenae, please let us bring you home with us, so you can get checked out by a professional." She eyed my wrist for a moment, "the doctor can fix your nose —"

I glared at her, which cut her off. Using the paper towel holding hand I cusped my fingers around the bridge of my nose, took a deep breath, and popped it back into place. All four of them surrounding me widened their eyes and there was a collective gasp. Jaycee's jaw dropped a little.

After wiping the blood with the towel, I pushed Jaycee away and climbed up, still holding my wrist to my chest. Ignoring them, and Mr. Gyver, I walked out. I was going home, where no one would ask me why I was the way I was — because the perpetrator was the only one there. I told myself I didn't need them like they thought. I'd grown up this way just fine. I would continue to be just fine.