Broken Boundaries

Chapter 8: Hiding

Dominic

It’s 4:15 pm, and I’m still pacing outside the classroom, wondering where Celeste could be. That liar. How dare she think she could deceive me? I saw the truth with my own eyes. Yet, there she was, earlier, standing with her friends as if everything was perfectly normal.

I push the door open and step inside, interrupting their whispered conversation. The classroom is empty, except for the trio. Aria is perched on a desk, swinging her legs casually, while Yara leans against the window, glancing away as if avoiding my gaze.

“Have any of you seen Celeste?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “It’s closing time.”

Aria’s lips curve into a smirk. “Oh, sir, she probably left already,” she says with a dismissive shrug. “I mean, after that embarrassing English test today, she probably didn’t want to stick around.” Her tone drips with feigned sympathy.

Yara shifts uncomfortably but keeps her mouth shut. I take a step closer, narrowing my eyes at them. “Funny, since you three seem to know a lot about her whereabouts. You spend so much time together.” My voice is edged, a challenge. “Yara, what do you have to say?”

Yara’s head snaps up, her voice trembling as she replies, “I-I haven’t seen her. Why would you even ask me?” Her eyes dart nervously to Aria, who’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why the storeroom was locked, would you?” I press, my patience thinning.

Aria huffs. “It’s closing, sir. We don’t have to answer your questions. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She tosses the keys onto the nearest desk and saunters out of the classroom with Yara and the third girl trailing behind her like obedient ducklings.

I shake my head, stunned at their audacity. My gaze falls to the keys left behind. Something doesn’t sit right. I grab them and head for the storeroom, my footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway.

When I reach the storeroom, I unlock the door and step inside. There, on the floor, is Celeste—her clothes disheveled and her hair tangled. She’s conscious, but barely.

“Celeste!” I rush to her side, my heart pounding. She’s clutching her knee and breathing heavily.

“Please, don’t… tell my uncle,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t let anyone see me like this.” Her eyes are wide with a mixture of fear and humiliation.

I help her to her feet, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “It’s alright, just hold onto me,” I say softly. Her grip tightens as I lift her. Step by step, we make our way to the clinic. As we cross the courtyard, I can feel dozens of eyes on us. The whispers start—some curious, some jealous. I hear a few giggles, even a sarcastic clap.

We reach the clinic, and I lay her down on the bed just as the nurse hurries in, opening the windows for air. “What happened?” she asks, glancing between me and Celeste.

“I found her in the storeroom,” I explain, still catching my breath. “She’s hurt.”

The nurse sighs, rummaging for a first aid kit. “Another victim of the school bullies, I see,” she mutters under her breath as she begins to examine Celeste’s knee.

Celeste coughs and opens her eyes, blinking as if trying to recall where she is. “Just stay down,” I tell her, my voice more gentle now. “You need to rest.”

She stares at me for a moment, her expression softening before she quickly looks away. “How… did I get here?” she asks, almost too quietly.

“I brought you,” I reply, reaching out to adjust her hair. Her curls are softer than I expected, but I stop myself and pull back. “You’re cute, Celeste,” I add, more out of impulse than anything. “But holding back your pain isn’t.” I pause, waiting for her to say something—anything. “Who did this to you?”

She turns away, her lips pressed into a tight line, refusing to meet my gaze.

Just then, Mr. Kunle bursts in, his face flushed with worry. “What happened?” His voice is urgent, almost accusatory.

“I-I fell,” Celeste blurts out before I can speak. But I can tell by the way she’s avoiding his eyes that she’s lying.

“Fell?” he repeats, frowning. “Where exactly?”

“She was in the storeroom,” I answer, stepping in. “I found her there, almost unconscious. I brought her here. But it seems she needs rest more than lessons right now. The nurse said she’ll be fine by Monday.”

Mr. Kunle’s eyes narrow on me, suspicion flickering there. He doesn't say a word, but I can sense his unspoken accusations.

As I step out of the clinic, a question lingers in my mind—what is Celeste hiding, and who is she so afraid of?