Chapter 14

DIAMOND POV
I hear laughter and whispers as I walk through the hallway, and I know it’s because of me.
 
Most of the whispers are about how dead my fingers are and that I can no longer play the strings on my guitar.
 
Then I hear how lonely they say I’ve become. My dad’s gone, my best friend turned my biggest enemy, and I’ve never had a mom.
 
I had never allowed words to get into me, but since the three transferred students invaded my brain with their thoughts dancing free in my head, I’ve become so vulnerable beyond repair.
 
I feel exposed. I have clothes on, but I feel fucking naked, and my hands don’t stop quivering and moving dead as the whispers increase in the hallway, as if all they have to talk about is me.
 
I want to run and hide, but only cowards do that. I won’t run. I will fucking prove them wrong by saying that my hands aren’t dead and I can still play the strings the same way.
 
It’s not my finger's fault. They also got shocked when they heard that dad was no more, and since then they have stopped responding. I beat them most times, slapped them in warm water, and cried for them to respond anytime I picked up the guitar, but they didn't. They feel so cold and dead, as if they have sworn never to play again.
 
They refused to stop the murmurs about me. I pick up my heel, running into the female locker room with my guitar hung at my back.
 
I run in and slam the door hard. I drag in a long breath as I settle down on a seat. I take out my guitar from its bag and place it on my lap.
 
This room echoes, so I let out a long sigh with my eyes shut, placing my fingers on the strings.
 
I know the right keys to play even without looking at the strings. As usual, my fingers are not responding anymore as I position them on the right strings.
 
I’ve been battling to play them even when I want to mourn my dad with them. I just play trash because my fingers apparently died with him too.
 
And I can’t give this up. Playing guitar was my dream; it was my dad's biggest dream for me too. I really can’t quit doing it; I want to please my father even though he isn’t here anymore.
 
It’s quite cold in the locker room, I bite down on my lips and close my eyes. Music is best felt when your eyes are closed.
 
Dad.. Are you there?
Can you see me?
You know, my fingers don’t play the string the same way.
Since you left this world,
I know you’d want me to fight like the fighter you say I am.
That’s what I’m doing now, and my fingers are about to bleed because I’m killing them to play.
 
I sing a song with the strings, and I play well for the first time in weeks. My fingers fucking hurt as if I had just murdered them, but I feel fulfilled, and I’m sure as hell that whoever was outside heard the sound of my voice and my guitar.
 
As I let out a sigh of relief and put my guitar back into the bag, the door was abruptly thrown open, and I met angry eyes in front of me.
 
“How dare you fucking play that here?" asked the class monitor and her crew flooding behind her.
 
“And who are you to tell me where to play my guitar? I suppose you seem defeated because you thought I would never play the strings anymore. Oh well, I’m so pleased to have you disappointed because I will get better like I used to, even though it takes my fingers bleeding every fucking time.” I clench my teeth at her, but she comes so fast in front of me and plasters a tight slap across my cheek.
 
“What did you do that for?” My cheeks burn as I stare at her with teary eyes.
 
“For talking trash at me. Do you fucking wish to get into trouble because I doubt no one can save you? You no longer have anyone on your side, Dia. So don’t you dare pick a fight; you are alone while we are about five.” She rolls her eyes at me, and the others stare at me as if I were more than trash.
 
I balled my fists and released them again before raising my hands back at her, giving her the same tight slap she had given me a while ago.
 
I know she hadn’t expected it because she gasped just the same way her crew gasped in shock.
“I don’t have anyone on my side, but I’m not fucking weak like you think I am. If you give me ten slaps, I will give you right back!” I gritted my teeth at her.
 
She grins awfully, grabbing a handful of my hair. “Make sure the door is shut, girls.” She commands, and they obey her. She comes closer to my face, and I can vividly see the print of her fingers on her face. I had slapped her hard, like she deserved.
 
“What the fuck are you doing? Let go of my hair right now!” I scream, but her hands clench my hair harder, and my scalp begins to hurt.
 
As I scream, they laugh hard, as if my pain were music to them. “Did you really raise your hands back at me? You shouldn’t have ever done that.” She warns as if she is up to something awfully bad.
 
“I will do it again if I have to.” I clench my teeth, but she pulls me away, dragging me along with her. She just doesn’t pull me; she does with my long blonde, and I scream in pain.
 
Only heaven knows where she is taking me because she doesn’t stop and clutches my hair harder, and I watch as strands of my hair fall to the ground.
 
I see that we are suddenly in the female bathroom, then she halts and throws me fucking sideways.
 
“What are you doing? Let me out right now!” She smiles evilly instead and turns on the shower, pressing me down with her crew.
 
"And when you get fucking soaked, I will give you another slap, but a hundred of them to teach you never to raise your hands on me.” She kicks me hard in the ribs as the water falls on me.
 
“Jane, you have to stop her. She is fucking hurting me. Tell her to stop this already.” I scream, watching Jane say nothing but just fold her hands in front of me as she watches them torture me as if I’ve stolen from them.