She had deliberately prevented Nora from leaving.
And now Nora was hurt.
That mattered.
Whatever Madison said afterward, it mattered.
Nora opened her eyes.
In the broken reflection, she saw the blonde girl standing close behind her.
Madison looked pleased with herself.
The sight produced a feeling Nora had rarely experienced so strongly.
Anger.
Not the helpless kind that made her cry after school.
Not the silent frustration she carried home and hid from her mother.
This was something sharper.
She wanted to stand upright.
She wanted Madison’s hands off her.
She wanted the other girl to understand that Nora’s fear did not give her permission to do whatever she pleased.
“You’re hurting me,” Nora said.
Madison laughed again.
“Then maybe you should stop acting so tough.”
Nora gripped the edge of the sink.
She forced herself to breathe.
One breath.
Then another.
Her forehead throbbed.
The fluorescent lights reflected unevenly in the cracked glass.
She could see her birthmark just above her left eyebrow, close to the thin red line of the injury.
Something about that particular detail troubled her.
Madison could have pushed her in another direction.
She could have shoved her shoulder or knocked her bag away.
Instead, she had forced her face toward the mirror.
Nora did not yet know whether the location of the injury meant anything.
There was no reason, she told herself, to imagine some hidden purpose behind an act of cruelty.
Still, the question remained.
Why her forehead?
Why so close to that little mark?
The thought was fleeting.
Madison’s next words pulled her back.
“What’s wrong?
Nothing to say?”
Nora looked at the blonde girl through the broken glass.
She was tired of hearing that voice.
Tired of seeing that smile.
Tired of being frightened every time the school bell rang.
For months, she had believed silence was the safest response.
Now she understood that silence had not protected her.
It had only made Madison more confident.
Nora slowly lifted her head.
“Let go of me.”
Her voice was quiet.
But it did not shake.
Madison smirked.
“Make me.”
Nora moved.
She twisted her shoulders, pulling herself away from Madison’s grip.
Pain flashed across her scalp, but she kept moving until her hair slipped free.
Then she turned and planted both hands against Madison’s shoulders.
She pushed.
Hard.
Not because she wanted to hurt the other girl.
Not because she wanted revenge.
She wanted space.
She wanted to get away from the hands that had been holding her.
Madison had clearly not expected resistance.
She stumbled backward.
One foot slid across the polished tiles.
Her arms lifted instinctively, searching for balance.
“YOU LITTLE—”
She fell.
The sound of her landing echoed through the restroom.
For a second, neither girl spoke.
Nora stood near the sink, breathing hard.
Madison stared up at her from the floor.
The surprise on the blonde girl’s face was unmistakable.
It was the first time Nora had seen Madison look truly uncertain.
And for one brief moment, Nora understood how much of the girl’s power depended on everybody else being afraid to resist her.
Nora had not defeated anything.
Her forehead still hurt.
Her hands were shaking.
The mirror was broken.
She was frightened of what Madison might do next.
But she was standing on her own feet.
Madison was no longer holding her.
That alone felt important.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Madison demanded.
She propped herself up on one elbow, staring at Nora in disbelief.
Nora did not approach her.
“You wouldn’t let me go.”
Madison’s mouth opened.
For once, she seemed unable to produce an immediate insult.
Then her expression hardened.
“You pushed me.”
“Because you were hurting me.”
Madison looked around as though expecting someone else to support her version of what had happened.
There was nobody.
The restroom remained empty.
The damaged mirror reflected the two girls from different angles.
Nora could see one side of Madison’s face in the glass above the sink.
The blonde girl’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had narrowed.
Nora realized that Madison was not accustomed to appearing vulnerable in front of anyone.
Even now, sitting on the floor after losing her balance, she seemed more offended by the embarrassment than concerned about Nora’s injury.
Nora took a step away from the counter.
Her legs felt unsteady.
She brushed her fingers carefully across her forehead.
The scrape was small, but it stung.
She wanted water.
She wanted a tissue.
Most of all, she wanted to leave the restroom and find someone who could help.
But when she looked toward the mirror, she stopped.
Her reflection appeared between several branching cracks.
One line crossed the glass just above the spot where her birthmark appeared.
Nora leaned closer.
She could see the little crescent beneath the loose strands of hair.
