Invisible String | Lovertation

tw: mention of abuse

8 years old - Reputation

My mom had just left me here for my first day of second grade. My first day of public school. Until now, I had been homeschooled, learning at the kitchen table with my mom as the teacher. But things had change, and now I was here—thrown into a classroom full of kids who had known each other their entire lives. Kids who already had their best friends, their routines, their inside jokes.

I was the outsider. And everyone seemed to know it.

I clutched my backpack straps and looked around for an empty seat. Every table had at least two kids at it, heads bent together, talking in hushed whispers. I could feel their eyes on me. A few kids straight-up ignored me, turning away as if I wasn't even there. Others sent me curious glances, but not the kind that meant they wanted to be friends. No, they were looking at me like I was weird.

Maybe I was.

I swallowed hard and kept searching, hoping for some place—any place—where I could sit without feeling like I was intruding.

That's when I saw her.

A girl with big blue eyes, hair the same color as mine—maybe a little bit shorter—and a soft, friendly face. She sat alone at her desk, swinging her legs under the chair. She looked like the complete opposite of me—like the kind of girl who had tons of friends, who never had to sit alone. And yet, here she was.

She'd probably think I was weird too. But at this point, what did I have to lose?

I took a shaky breath and walked up to her desk, forcing a nervous smile. "Uh, hi, I'm Reputation." I said, my face burning. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

For a split second, I expected her to turn away from me like everyone else. But instead, her whole face lit up.

"Sure!" she said cheerfully. "I don't have any friends either, so that would be nice!"

Relief flooded through me. I pushed my hair behind my ear and sat down beside her.

I did it.

I made a friend.

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12 years old - Lover

Me and Rep were chasing fireflies in her backyard, running barefoot through the grass as the tiny golden lights twinkled all around us. Nights like these felt magical—like we were the only two people in the world. She was my best friend, my favorite person. Sure, I had Lorie, but Rep was different. She was the one who knew me better than anyone, the one I told all my secrets to.

"Rep, can you come inside for a minute?" Her mom called from the kitchen window.

Rep sighed, setting her jar down. "I'll be right back, Love." She gave me a little smile before disappearing inside.

I kept chasing fireflies, but the air felt different now, heavier. It always did when she went inside.

I could hear the voices start almost immediately. First, her mom's—firm but weary. Then Rep's, rising with frustration. Then her dad's.

Rep's dad was...awful. She never wanted to talk about it much, but I knew enough. He was violent, unpredictable. The kind of man who made you walk on eggshells just by being in the same room. And if Rep ever talked back, things got worse.

I edged closer to the house, trying to hear.

"I just don't understand why you have to be like this all the time," Rep's mom said, her voice strained.

"I'm not—" Rep's voice was defensive.

"I'll be damned if you talk to your mother like that," her dad snapped.

I tensed. His voice had that sharp edge to it—the one Rep had told me about before.

Then, the sound of something crashing.

"No, Dad, please—"

Rep's voice cut through the night like a knife, and suddenly, her mom was screaming too.

Something was wrong.

Heart pounding, I stepped closer to the window, just enough to see inside. My breath caught in my throat.

Her dad had a knife.

I didn't think. I just ran.

The police station was only a few blocks away, but it felt like miles. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

By the time I burst through the station doors, I could barely get the words out. "My—my friend..." I gasped, bending over to catch my breath. "Her... her dad... I think her dad is trying to kill her."

The officers didn't hesitate. They grabbed their radios, the keys, and ushered me into the car. My mind was racing. What if I was too late? What if—

We pulled up to the house, and I could still hear screaming.

"You...you monster!" That was Rep's mom.

"I was trying to get her to stop fucking screaming at you!" Her dad's voice was wild, defensive.

"Well, stabbing our child was not the way to go about that!"

Everything blurred after that. The officers rushed inside. One of them came out with Rep on a stretcher. There was blood on her arm.

I wanted to cry.

Another officer led Rep's dad out in handcuffs. His hands were stained with blood—Rep's blood. I wanted to jump on him, hit him, hurt him the way he had hurt her.

Rep was crying, her lips forming silent words, over and over.

The police told me later what she had been saying.

She was saying my name.

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15 years old - Lover

"You're moving?" My voice came out sharper than I intended as we walked to second period.

Rep shrugged. "Yeah. My dad's almost out of jail for that whole trying-to-kill-me thing. My mom doesn't want him to find us and actually finish the job."

I nodded slowly. "That makes sense." What was I supposed to say? That I wanted her to stay? That I couldn't imagine my life without her? That it wasn't fair?

"But, don't worry," Rep added quickly. "We can still text and call. And whenever I get my phone taken, I can message you on my school computer. If I get one."

I gave her a look. "If?"

She sighed. "You know how my mom is. She's still convinced I'm gonna magically stop smoking and drinking if she punishes me enough."

I didn't say anything to that. Rep had started drinking and smoking when I was twelve and she was thirteen. I had begged her to stop, but she just laughed and told me it made her feel numb.

"But, to be fair," she continued, "ever since the whole thing with my dad happened, my mom hasn't been taking my phone as much. Probably sympathy. Guilt for not leaving him earlier.

My eyes flickered to the scar on her arm. It was smaller now, healed over, but still there. A reminder of that night. Of what she had been through.

Of what I almost lost.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "How soon?"

She hesitated. "Two weeks."

Two weeks.

And then she'd be gone.