My back directly hit the wall and James's face loomed dangerously close to mine. He pinned my wrists above my head, looking down at me with an intimidating glare.
"Why don't you keep running, Bridget?"
I couldn't run! The strength gap between us was too vast and I was no match for him.
Actually, Jeremy Foster wasn't the only boyfriend I ever had.
I was seventeen that summer when a new transfer student joined our class—John Shelton, the boy whose face was marked by extensive scars from a fire.
The students were terrified of him and avoided him everywhere. No one even dared to sit with him during lunch in the cafeteria. Behind his back, everyone called him the 'Ugly Monster.'
One day, his deskmate asked to switch seats, saying that just seeing his face gave her nightmares.
The teacher could only sigh and ask if anyone else was willing to sit beside him.
His slender fingers were nervously scratching the edge of the desk, betraying his inner tension.
Just as silence fell over the room and no one volunteered, I timidly raised my hand.
At that moment, the class erupted in laughter.
"Sir, just let Bridget sit with him!"