Squibler Dangerous Prompt – 150 words without stopping writing
First Draft (raw writing)
Becca came into class without the usual jump in her step. I ran up to her quickly and exclaimed, “He is making us write a three-thousand word essay!” But she didn’t make the gasp that she and I were known for in our school. She simply replied with an, “oh,” and she sat down.
As she bent over to grab her computer from her bag I see something unusual on her neck. I push away the thick dark curls and see a large bruise for a split second before Becca shoves me off and nearly starts crying. “Becca, whats going on? Whats the problem,” I lower my voice, “is it him?” Instead of replying she simply nods. I grab her gently and pull her out of her seat. “This is it, I am no longer standing for this. We are turning your father in.”
Edited Draft
As soon as Becca shuffles into class, I pounce on her exclaiming, “He is making us write a three-thousand word essay for our final!” She shrugs, putting her bag down by her seat, and sighs, “oh.” I stand there, confused as to why she didn’t make the famous Becca Gasp when I finally I realize something is wrong. I glance over her again and and notice things that I hadn’t noticed before. Her thick, luscious curls were tangled, she can barely keep her bloodshot eyes open, and for once she doesn’t even glance over to Ryan, her current obsession. As Becca’s trembling figure bends over to grab her computer from her bag, I whisper over to her, “What is wrong with you? You look as though a you’ve been mauled over by…” She jerks up and with a surprisingly tight grip, drags me to the bathroom across the haul, and shoves me into one of the stalls. Her eyes sear into mine as she intensely whispers, “There is nothing wrong so stop bringing attention to me. Don’t you DARE say anything else about me, you understand me?”
“Bec…”
“You understand me?”
“…yes.” I whisper, dejected. She nods. She walks away, but as the breeze from opening the door gently flows her loose-fitting shirt up, I see a bright blue and purple bruise blossoming up her back. I look down at my hands, thinking.
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