Silent Tears, chapter 5
"See you later Skye!" Billie Joe shouted from his car, Skye waved in return.
*Billie Joe's P.O.V*
I watch Skye walk off. Hang on, why the fuck is she limping?! She won't be happy if she cramps up in the race.
I get home and shove some clothes and stuff in the washing machine.
Hang on, is that blood?
I stop to look at two towels, both seem to be soaked in lots and lots of droplets of blood. I swear to god I didn't put them in the washing, they must have come out of Skye's room.
Out in the hallway, the phone rings.
*Normal P.O.V*
"On your marks...get set...Go!" The teacher yelled and off all the student's at the starting line went, apart from Skye, who remained where she was.
"Ummm...Skye," One of the teachers said, as she walked up to her. "You need to run. Otherwise you won't win the race." But it was no use any way, seeing as everyone else had reached the finish line.
"My ankle hurts," Skye managed to say, before falling over, clutching one ankle.
*Skye's P.O.V*
Great. On my left ankle, the needle went through, nice and clean. Why the fuck did the right one tear? It wasn't supposed to hurt the next day!
Ahhh well...the school nurse is called up to have a look at me. She's not having a look at my ankles. I've got a knife, my penknife, I sewed a small pocket inside my shorts, and it's in there.
"Can you roll your socks down, so I can take a look at your ankle please?" She asks.
Sucker. I don't move.
She reaches for my socks herself, and I whip out my knife and flick the blade up. The kids in a little crowd watching me gasp as the sun shines down on the silver blade.
She frowns. "Knives are not allowed in school. Hand it over, please."
I do nothing.
"Hand it over please," She repeats. She holds out her hand expectantly, sadly for her, that was what I had been waiting for.
Quick as a blink of the eye, the knife flashed in my hand, before finding it's way into the palm of her hand. The crowd screama as I clutch my penknife to my chest, the crimson blood staining my white sports top.
I'm still sitting there when, ten minutes later, a car arrives to take me away.
*Billie Joe's P.O.V*
I watch Skye walk off. Hang on, why the fuck is she limping?! She won't be happy if she cramps up in the race.
I get home and shove some clothes and stuff in the washing machine.
Hang on, is that blood?
I stop to look at two towels, both seem to be soaked in lots and lots of droplets of blood. I swear to god I didn't put them in the washing, they must have come out of Skye's room.
Out in the hallway, the phone rings.
*Normal P.O.V*
"On your marks...get set...Go!" The teacher yelled and off all the student's at the starting line went, apart from Skye, who remained where she was.
"Ummm...Skye," One of the teachers said, as she walked up to her. "You need to run. Otherwise you won't win the race." But it was no use any way, seeing as everyone else had reached the finish line.
"My ankle hurts," Skye managed to say, before falling over, clutching one ankle.
*Skye's P.O.V*
Great. On my left ankle, the needle went through, nice and clean. Why the fuck did the right one tear? It wasn't supposed to hurt the next day!
Ahhh well...the school nurse is called up to have a look at me. She's not having a look at my ankles. I've got a knife, my penknife, I sewed a small pocket inside my shorts, and it's in there.
"Can you roll your socks down, so I can take a look at your ankle please?" She asks.
Sucker. I don't move.
She reaches for my socks herself, and I whip out my knife and flick the blade up. The kids in a little crowd watching me gasp as the sun shines down on the silver blade.
She frowns. "Knives are not allowed in school. Hand it over, please."
I do nothing.
"Hand it over please," She repeats. She holds out her hand expectantly, sadly for her, that was what I had been waiting for.
Quick as a blink of the eye, the knife flashed in my hand, before finding it's way into the palm of her hand. The crowd screama as I clutch my penknife to my chest, the crimson blood staining my white sports top.
I'm still sitting there when, ten minutes later, a car arrives to take me away.
