“You can close your eyes from the things you don’t want to see, but you can never close your heart from the things you don’t want to feel.”

Day 1 – Afternoon

I was drowning.

The cold stream of water ran thoroughly, harshly, frigidly against my pale skin, my head already numb from its upturned position. I couldn’t breathe; my air supply was failing. But I remained immersed in the freezing water, fighting the urge to fill my lungs with much needed oxygen.

Desperately, I tried to overwhelm the heat of anger coursing through my veins, attempting to tame the searing and scorching in every living cell of my body. I was burning – whether it’s from rage or humiliation, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

It didn’t matter.

One thing’s for sure … sure as hell. Things would last forever. I was never the type to forgive easily. Forget? Yes. But forgive? No freaking way.

To forgive someone means that they sincerely apologized for what they did wrong, and that you are willing to trust that person again. I didn’t have that kind of big heart in me. Me and Vanessa together? Eugh.

I couldn’t even start visualizing it. Not in a long shot. Not in this lifetime, not ever.

Seriously, even a saint would bear wrath on her.

I couldn’t completely erase the degradation from my system. Of course, those self-assertive people would think that it was fun. They weren’t the one being harassed. They weren’t the one being stripped off their dignity.

I hate them.

And that was all I could do. Curse. Complain. Nurse my injured ego. I could hate them as much as I want, but I could never harm them. I could not fight back. The whole school was their territory, their jungle.

I was in the bottom of the ladder, in their jungle muck. Too weak to strike back. Too small to have a voice.

A nobody.

I scrubbed my hair for the third time, still holding my breath, but the calming effect of water was lost on me. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was too used to being intimidated that I developed an amazing recovery speed. Or not.

Shivering, dark spots popped in and out of my vision. There was a slight buzzing in my ears which vaguely alarmed me. I knew I had to breathe now, but I couldn’t grasp its necessity.

Why breathe?

There was nothing for me to feel. There was nothing but anguish, fear and lonely hatred. My soul was drowned in anger, envy, jealousy, pride, greed… And I had to hide them, suppress them in the deepest, darkest corners of my heart. All the negative emotions locked firmly inside a hidden drawer within me, leaving nothing in its wake.

But without them, I felt hollow. Not only extinguished the fire in me, but also sniffed out its core. My chest felt so empty and dead.

Dead…

Gasping, I turned off the faucet. I allowed the droplets to slowly drip down my chin, relishing every little sensation. My matted hair clung like flimsy seaweeds on me. Seeing myself, I shuddered. The mirror reflected the foggy image of me – a perfect portrayal of what I was from within. And I just have the perfect adjectives in mind.

Was there any need for me to repeat them?

I sighed.

Closing my eyes, I painstakingly dried my hair with the towel I snatched from the girl’s shower room and dunked the empty shampoo container – also courtesy of our school’s facility – inside the garbage bin. The towel soon followed after I used it.

From my bag, I dug out a broad-tipped pen, a notebook and my hairbrush.

First things first. I bit my lower lip as I single-mindedly begun the arduous job of fixing my self. After yanking the brush through the tangles of my hair – and experiencing a terrible hair loss at the same time – I was finally decent-looking. But I couldn’t bear looking at my own eyes. Scared, because they didn’t hold any redeeming quality.

They were dead.

Dead…

I removed the cap of the pen with my teeth as I leaned on the dry part of the counter. With my unusually elegant script, I wrote 'Out of Order' on a torn sheet of paper and taped it on the outer door of the CR.

Now, I could be positively alone.

I threw my bag against the huge mirror. Unfortunately, it didn’t break, but all my things scattered on the tiled floor.

I only stared.

It didn’t matter.

I entered one of the cubicles and sat on the lavatory, burying my face on my hands. I simply sat there, unmoving, unblinking for who knows how long. The silence of the place was so loud – it was deafening.

The bell had ringed ages ago, but I had no plan of returning to class. If this was indeed a repetition of the May 10 I remembered, and I’m convinced it was, I had no intention of relieving all those painful memories. I had no masochistic tendencies. It would be better to lock myself here.

No one could blame me, right?

It wasn’t wrong to have at least a little refuge inside this nightmare. I wish I could weep, or I have someone to share my troubles with, but I had none.

No one to save me.

I was alone in ways more than one.

I bit my lower lip, ignoring the revolting taste of blood. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to thrash around, yet I was a dormant volcano. I wouldn’t explode. Everything was just building up inside me. It felt subtly suffocating. I wanted to cry. I desperately wanted to cry, to release the pain that seared through me… but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Crying is only for the weak.

Despite everything, that was the only thing that I was proud of. I never cried. Of all the difficulties I bore, that was my only stronghold. I never cried.

What was happening? This was the question that kept on recurring to me since I realized the truth. I recalled how I saved the young boy from the huge truck, how I blacked out after it hit me, and yet when I woke up, I was here in school.

What was happening?

No rational explanation formed in my brain, despite how much I racked it.

What was happening?

It was not logical. It was impossible. Yet here I am, raised from the dead, sent back from the present or the future or whatever makes sense. But there was no sense, that’s the point. No scientific justification. It was difficult for me to accept any reason that was out of the bounds of reality.

What was I doing here, and why was I here? How did it happen? Was it a glitch in the Fate’s loom? A trick played by God? A jester goddess? A spell by some mythical creature? Fairies, witches, wizards? An ancient magic unleashed? Something caused by some unseen force, beyond the imaginable?

Or had I gone insane?

There were too many questions, and no way to answer them.

What was I to do now? Go out and act like nothing happened? Go out and change what had happened? Go out and suffer again for what was to happen?

God, what am I to do?

From a distance, I heard the familiar shrill noise. It was the bell. An hour had already passed. Meaning, one more class to miss. PE.

A shiver ran down my spine. I refused to move. I had Vanessa Hopps in my PE class. I would give anything just to spare me her demonic face. I ran my fingers through my thick hair.

By staying hidden here, I knew I was already changing things. I was supposed to attend all my classes, because the past me would. The past me didn’t care what people thought. I remembered how upset I was, but I was too talented an actress. Possibly too excellent for my own good.

No one discovered how much I hurt.

By being here, I was already altering the past, which would have great consequences on the future. How big they would be, I couldn’t begin to fathom. But what was I to do? I wasn’t a heroine who would bravely face her enemies.

I groaned as I remembered how Vanessa humiliated me, and what I would have to deal with again. It was sickening. It was very hard for me to imagine that girl – which I envision as evil incarnate – beside the guy I admired my whole life. What did Aethan saw in that girl? He was always so calm, so nice, and always the best in what he did. Was his only fault being attracted to all the wrong girls? But I guess I was not a good judge of character either, I was rotten to the core.

I envy, I loathe, I get angry, I lie. That and so much more.

I took a deep breath as I straightened my back. My mind changed its train of thoughts.

Ugh. What was fretting going to achieve me? Worrying would do me no good, only more bad. Right? Why should I pity myself over and over again? Wasn’t I tired of it yet? Why should I sulk? I was only giving myself a headache. I was only allowing them to torment me. I was only helping them in making me feel like a sore loser.

I had to be more positive. I had to be strong.

But I am a sore loser. I am the weak girl. The coward. The pathethic one. I couldn’t pretend to be who I’m not. I couldn’t just change things easily. It would take a miracle for that to happen!

And miracles don’t happen because you wish for it.

A dim memory resurfaced on my mind.

Wishing would get you nowhere. You have to work to get things done. It was what my mom used to say. We create our own miracles…

My own miracle… Could I? Should I?

I paused.

Wait. Didn’t I decide this before? That I would change? That I would prove myself? That I would gather my courage and stand tall?

What if this was my chance, my only chance? Why should I waste this opportunity?

I had to do something with what was handed down on my platter. I shouldn’t worry with the ‘what if’s’ and the ‘why’s’.

I smiled faintly.

We create our own miracles…

“Thank you, mom,” I whispered, a little sad that she was nowhere near me when I badly needed her. She was my best friend… but I guess despite the distance, she was still looking after me.

Feeling much, much better, I squared my shoulders, grabbed my things and left.

But I was greeted by a crowd of noisy students. A frown formed on my lips. The rage I tamed burned underneath my cool façade. Despite my renewed spirit, I remained the same unforgiving bitch.

I walked quickly, my head lowered in anger, not daring to spare even a second glance towards the group of students whispering behind me. I just had to get away, even if it looked like I was cowardly running from the mob of callous people who didn’t offer me even a simple gesture of compassion or any hint of solace.

As I glanced at the clock in the hall, it struck me that I was mistaken with the flow of time. The bell signaled dismissal. I must be too caught up with my erratic thoughts that I failed to correctly count the hours that passed.

Remembering my unearned detention from Ms. Jordan, I headed out of Building Two and went to Building Three, a smaller but identical version of the HS building.

I didn’t knock as I entered the detention room, which was out of habit, not of disrespect. The room was exactly as I remembered it. Square, the color of fading red, having the smell of dust and sweat, empty aside from a couple of bare shelves, a blackboard and a number of wooden chairs. The air conditioner was at its maximum.

Inside, there were four students, all guys, and a teacher-aide, who is a guy too.

My brows creased in confusion.

Four students, plus me, makes five. We were five back then?

On my first May 10 incident, I was the first student to arrive and was too preoccupied with my bully problems to notice my surroundings. I sat there writing pages and pages of apology letters. Perhaps I simply didn’t notice. But I had the notion we’re only three…

The teacher-aide gestured me to the table.

“You’re late,” said the stocky, bald man in a bored tone. He handed me ten blank sheets of bond paper.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I sat on the seat beside a blonde guy who didn’t look up, probably too engrossed in writing his own apologies.

The teacher-aide yawned, glowering at me. “No talking, no whispering, no eating, no drinking, no fidgeting, no texting, no MP’s, no escaping until you are finished. Leave the papers on top of the table. Got that?”

“Yes.”

I immediately started on my own apology letter, which only had the same thing written repeatedly.

I will not be rude to the teachers. I will not be rude to the teachers. I will not be rude to the teachers. I will not be rude to the teachers. I will not be rude to the teachers…

The aide, deciding that everyone was busy and well-behaved, chucked his brown coat on and left us.

My jaw dropped as I stared in disbelief. No way.

Suddenly, the room erupted in noise. I stifled a chuckle as I ran my fingers through my hair, reluctant to continue doing my detention task. Heck, what should I expect? This is the detention room, where students who break rules go.

The wildest of the animals in this school jungle.

“Hey,” my seatmate called out with a husky voice.

When I lifted my head, I met a pair of piercing green eyes directly gazing on mine. I blinked in astonishment.

Aethan West?! What’s he – ? God. Didn’t he have a basketball practice?

He seemed pretty amused by my expression. His voice was a bit sarcastic when he spoke. “Thanks a lot. You know, you were actually cool. I was about to die of boredom if not for you.”

“Excuse me?”

What was he doing here? Why was he thanking me? And what the hell was he talking about? I didn’t remember him being here, but then, I wasn’t paying attention in the past – and our aide didn’t leave back then.

“Hello, earth calling Evans. Are you even there?” he smirked as he shook his head in disbelief. I was too speechless to respond. God, he’s so handsome. Drop-dead gorgeous. I’ve never been this close to him and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, the hormones kicking in. His tanned complexion is so beautiful. And his muscles are so well-defined. I wish I could touch him… his hair seemed so soft…

“W-What are you doing here?” I asked after I finally forced my jaws to move, which took all my willpower, believe me. Regrettably, my voice came out wrong, sounding ruder than I intended.

“Are you asleep all day?” He gave me a weird look. “You caused my detention.”

The guy behind him hollered. “The salad messed her head, Aeth!”

“Nah-uh,” another guy chimed in. “It’s his girl, idiot. Vanessa’s a handful.”

“Shut up,” Aethan growled as he mock-punched the second guy. I gave a nervous laugh, and Aethan gave me another weird look, releasing his struggling black friend.

“What?” My right hand tucked my hair behind an ear.

“Did you just laugh?”

“Uh, yeah?” I tilted my head. “What about it?”

“Nah.” He waved a dismissive hand, his expression returning to the smooth, amused mask he wore everywhere.

I knew he was hiding something, but I wasn’t the type to pry so I let it go. I remembered my earlier unanswered question. Despite my instinct to keep quiet, I asked, “What did you mean I caused your detention?”

Aethan returned to his seat as he gave me a very disturbing glare. “I got it in Ms. J’s class. You were hilarious I was laughing my ass off, so she gave me a detention too.”

“Ms. J?”

He made a face as he spoke in a funny la-di-da voice.“Ms. Jordan. You know, a while ago. In Calculus. You were practically pissing her off. She was all red and fuming. My laughter was so loud… don’t tell me you didn’t hear?”

“Of course, I did,” I replied, shrugging, but deep inside my thoughts were in a mess.

Did that really happen? Or was it an effect of the changes?