I could taste the salt. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and sobbed. I had to get a grip of myself! Mr Francis waited unflinchingly, his muscu...ar arms still folded. “It – it was during netball practise,” I began, “Chloe h-had called me a cheat … s-so I – I slapped her and called her …” “What did you call her?” “I – I called her a … fucking silly bitch, Sir,” I lowered my head, genuinely ashamed of my actions and terrified of the inevitable repercussions. “I’ve given you so many chances. I shivered and pulled my jacket closer towards me, visible chill bumps forming under my tight black leggings. I gazed at the clock in my dimly lit car. 10:14. I had been sitting in the passenger seat for about 20 minutes now, waiting for my damn stomach to calm down. I had excused myself from the apartment complex full of cold beer and good company due to waves of nausea that kept sweeping over me, along with gradual crescendoes of sharp pain that came over my stomach. I don’t know if it was. More

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