His love beyond words
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Humiliated, belittled, mistreated, and rejected because of her silence, Emma has no hope for the future. Until she meets Michaël Keller, the son of the most powerful man in town and also the richest. Michaël has it all: stunning beauty, extraordinary influence, and, above all else, power. Everyone expects him to date a girl from his background, but he falls irremediably in love with Emma. How can these two teens in a society that values appearances above everything else find the courage to love each other without restriction? Is it possible for love to survive despite the hardships of pain, sadness, and tragedies?
It's another injustice
I tried to hold on as I saw the ground move closer and closer to my face as if in slow motion, but my arms had become useless, and then a sickening crackle stirred in the air. I hissed, an animalistic sound escaping my lips as a jolt of pain shifted from my outer to my insides; I desperately wanted to fight back - but I knew that would draw too much attention to my body. So I lay down, as I had so many times before, and a group of girls surrounded me with disgusting smiles on their faces. They all hated retards, they said - they all hated me. And though I hated them too, I didn't lift a finger against them. I knew I shouldn't. So I didn't.
A kick to my ribs sent a scream over my bleeding lips, and my watery eyes widened as I tried to escape the pain. My thoughts, though battered, were clear as day. I had either ripped open the earlier wounds or they were swelling again. My head ached, and I silently wondered if there was a sedative lying around somewhere that I could take to keep from feeling all the pain inside me.
The leader of the gang, a girl, frowned and kept calling me rough as they kicked and stabbed and laughed. I fought the urge to cry; after so long, those words still burned a hot piece of wool inside me, making me feel like useless stuff walking around in the world when it shouldn't. They called me evil, cursed by God and the devil, a strange piece of shit who shouldn't even be alive - they called me everything they could think of.
There were about seven of them. Even with the blood in my eyes, I could only see the figures blurry, but I could hear them better. Every time I got hit, my eyesight was taken, but my hearing was still fine - it was the best I had.
I felt another metal shoe under my hip. I screamed in fear for my life as the others hit me in the ribs, but there was nothing I could do, nothing I could use against them to protect myself. I had nothing; there was nothing that could have protected me. Money, I had none. Friends, I had none. Allies, no one would even think of it; in high school I was considered a curiosity because I believed being mute wasn't the same as being human. The power, I had it, but I didn't use it - and now I'm sure with all the injuries I couldn't use it either if I tried. The anger I had, but there was nothing to let it out with. I was literally and figuratively alone in the face of all those hateful and disgusted stares.
And it was awful. My only crime was that I couldn't speak. They avoided me like the plague, maybe they thought my silence was contagious, they allowed these girls to beat me up because they thought I probably deserved it; no one was looking for a teacher, maybe it was better that way because these girls were real bullies. So I was alone and abandoned.
"Your parents created a fucking monster... Bitch, it's like you're ruining the world..." scolded the boss. Everyone else showed their approval by courting each other or something, and I was left alone with my whining. That hurt. Really, really hurt - it hurt a lot. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die and never come back. But I knew I couldn't. They wouldn't be able to bully me anymore, and those idiots would find other helpless innocents to beat up. Sometimes life wasn't fair.
"God, you piss me off..." One of the others growled. Cook let out a hysterical laugh. It showed she was fine. »
I felt another hard kick and a few harder kicks before they had enough of me. One spat on me, then another, then the other six or seven, and when they were done, my face was covered with their sticky, disgusting saliva. I wanted to vomit, oh how I wanted to, but I could not. It would hurt my stomach. Then footsteps came, hopefully far, far away, and their voices carried them away from the basketball court. When their voices had completely stopped, I waited a few more minutes before trying to move.
The floor was cold anyway. It would help my wounds.
A scowl and a cough escaped my bruised lips, sending my scratchy throat into a new whirlpool of pain. A little blood splattered onto the floor from that, too, and I had to wonder how the hell I'd managed to bite the inside of my mouth so hard that it bled so much. Carefully, I pressed myself against the wall, making sure my breathing was slow and shallow and my stomach was not on the floor. My hands were shaking as I did this. At least the wall was cool - a good feeling for my bruised cheek and aching mind.
The world around me was quiet and I was glad for it. After my public punishment, everyone returned to the school buildings in a silence that suggested nothing had ever been there.
No one came to inquire about my condition or to call emergency services. They all left the training ground without a sound and that was good. The sounds would only hurt me. I would not like that at all. My head was already hurting and my bones were already shaking - I was broken in the middle of this immoral school. I had no idea how I was going to get home or what I was going to say to my sister - or if I even would. Usually they did not hit me that hard, so I did not have to hide the injuries. But this time they hit very hard and I have severe bruising, even my face is horrible. If I were sitting here, the blood would keep flowing and not stop... Would I bleed to death here in the cold? Will they finally make it?
It's never been this bad before. I was usually able to get up and walk away - limping, but I could still do it. That's what scared me. Would I die here? Would I finally fall into the hands of eternal sleep? Maybe I would escape this world... But would I go to hell? Everyone thought that. Everyone thought I was a monster and that the devil had created me to be consumed by the flames. Maybe I would. But it could not hurt like it does now.
I took a deep breath and continued to lean against the cool, soothing brick. Just as I groaned, I felt my vision blur, and the next thing I knew, my body was collapsing in on itself...
The last thing I heard was an overwhelmed growl.
Safe at home
My body feels heavy as I open my eyes and realize I am lying in a bed... a bed?
I straighten up as if I have been stung and turn to study my surroundings... big mistake, I did this way too fast and now my neck hurts a lot.
I raise my hand to massage the sore spot and see bandages on my forearm.
Someone has taken care of me.
So I decide to find out where I am, and when my mind finally calms down, I recognize the room. A small drawer, a window with the dimensions of an A4 format, a work table with some books and notebooks... exactly as I left it this morning, and a dressing room with no more than twenty clothes.
Yes, it's my room, I am in my room on my bed and its gray sheets... as gray as my life.
I hear footsteps and turn around as the door creaks open. There she appears, my big sister Jeanne, who, by the way, is my legal guardian.
She looks at me with watery eyes and I know she must have cried a lot because her eyes are red... r
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