A/N This...well...I don't know where this came from. I was watching a movie, when all of a sudden this popped into my head.
Just another terrible day in the terrible life of Whitney Stane
Being teased, taunted, tripped, and bullied by her "schoolmates." Everyday, non-stop. She wasn't what they called her, those horrible names, she wasn't like that at all. If only someone took the time to know her they would see that, but no one would. She shoved them all away, everything was her fault, she ruined her own life. She was pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. That was what those sticky notes were for, they covered every inch of her mirror to remind her that she would never have any friends, that she was pathetic and ugly, an idiot and a disgusting human being. She was so broken that she wouldn't even allow herself to eat. She didn't deserve that. Her stomach screamed at her for something, anything, but she never allowed it to win. The kitchen was off-limits to horrible people like her.
She carelessly tossed her schoolbooks on her bed. Too tired, and hungry to care whether they would bend. Laying down beside them, she prepared to do her homework, until she saw a small, yellow envelope sitting on her dresser. Tilting her head in curiosity, she picked up the object, and flipped it over, trying to figure out who it was from. No address, no name, nothing. Fully intrigued, she carefully opened the sealed letter with her fingernails. White paper peeked out from the inside, Whitney plucked it out, and placed the envelope back on the dresser. Plopping herself back down on the bed, she unfolded the letter, and read it...
Dear Whitney,
I know that you're starving yourself, please, stop it.
Everything isn't your fault, nothing is.
Those people don't know you, don't let them get to you.
You're absolutely perfect the way you are.
Your friend,
Tony.
P.S Go eat something.
The messy scrawl looked beautiful to her watery eyes. Only Tony would do something like this, and only Tony had that awfully perfect handwriting. Wet dots began to cover the surface of the letter. She realized that she was crying. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, removing the tears from her face. Taking in a deep breath, she raised her head to the mirror, and the notes.
You're pathetic.
Worthless,
You're ugly,
Work harder,
You'll never be anything.
They all screamed at her, reminding her of everything she thought about herself. The gurgling, and bubbling in her stomach felt painful. She wasn't going to do this anymore. Shakily stepping over to the mirror, she reached out a trembling hand towards the first note, firmly grasping it between her fingers. She raised the note off the glass slowly, terrified of reading back over, but she did anyway.
You shouldn't be alive.
She put that one up this morning...
It looked so stupid to her now. Locking her jaw, she tore it in half, feeling a great satisfaction, and accomplishment. Throwing it to the ground, she went after the rest. One after the other they all disappeared from her mirror, landing on the floor. After the very last one was removed, she saw a picture pushed into the edge of the wood.
It was her and Tony. Smiling. Happy. Twelve.
She pulled the picture out delicately, and turned it over.
Call Tony.
The back said in black marker, and even more tears fell down her cheeks. She was going to call him, and thank him. Moving over to the cell phone laying on the nightstand, she dialed his number.
One ring,
Two rings,
Three rings,
A voice answered. Tony.
"Hi." She simply said, and his voice replied.
"I've missed you too."
And right after this, she was going straight to the kitchen...
A/N Not that long, huh?
The reason why I write about Whitney so often is because I feel sorry for her, in case you were wondering. I know what it's like to be ignored. Not a good feeling. Plus, *cough* my friend *cough, cough* makes me *cough*
