This story was inspired by Asylum by TitanWolf

School

The place parents send their children to learn and grow their young minds, preparing them for the world. Parents do their best to send their offspring to an environment right for them to make friends and learn. However, to kids, it's the worst part of planet earth. their complaints ranging from "It's boring" to "I just don't feel like going." Emerald City Middle School was no different.

A standard 2-story bronze-colored building with a soccer and track field. Consisting of 10 classrooms, a gym, auditorium, cafeteria and no shortage of lockers, Thanks to multiple donations, and their numerous sports teams succeeding in their competitions, ECMS was the jewel (pun intended) of the city. That didn't stop students from griping about entering the cobalt front doors.

These words were not Connie Maheswaran. She LOVED learning. To her, compared to her 10th grade classroom, there was no other place she would rather be, especially her home. Her teachers described her as the Star Student, and an absolute joy to have in class. However, that's where the compliments ended. To her classmates, She was the geek, the mute, the freak.

"An element's atomic number tells you how many proto-"

Feeling a sharp sting on the back of her head, Connie turned her head looking down and to her left, seeing a rubber band coiled on the floor, the culprit for the now sore spot on her head. Not bothering to look behind her, already knowing she'd get nothing but smug grins and taunting glares, she refocused herself on her teacher's words. Sitting in the second row in her Biology class, Connie struggled to listen to her teacher's presentation lecture as her classmates gossiped behind her, about her.

Her classes followed after, and each had its own brand of bullying or teasing. English had spitballs, whenever it was her turn to read from the textbook. Algebra had whispered insults of her work. However, all that was nothing compared to American History. This class had constant questions about the treatment of slaves during the 16 and 1700s and gross assumptions about what they must have done to deserve this. Per usual, no teacher noticed them. Those that did simply looked the other way, back to their lesson plans, leaving the girl to suffer in silence.

Lunch was at least bearable. She had the bonus of being able to sit and eat in the library. She'd spend the entire day there, getting lost in the stories of doctors with a hidden dark side, or a band of heroes traveling to destroy all evil. This was her only known shelter from the constant picking and put-downs.

You know you deserve it.

After 3 more classes, including being constantly poked by a pen during her pop quiz in Spanish, and mimicked mockingly during Music, the school day had concluded. Now standing outside the front doors for her mom to pick her up, Connie anxiously waited to leave this two-faced building of a place. She could only hope she'd have enough time at home to relieve herself of the despair and dismay that Tuesday had forced on her before she went to 'her' violin lesson.

She didn't hate her lessons. She loved that she could play some of Bach's most famous works or the Violin Concerto. She just wished that she had picked this hobby herself instead of it being picked for her. It was her mother, not Connie, who found the flyer hanging up outside the school. Her mother then signed her up that same day, without so much as mentioning it to her. Her mother that bought her a brand new violin, that while it was appreciated by Connie, it also guilted her into taking the class, as to not seem ungrateful by her mother's generosity.

Speaking of her mother, a light blue Volvo 240 pulled in through the school's parking lot before parking near the curb, on the ironically called yellow painted no parking sign. Connie walked up to the front passenger door, seeing her mom staring absently ahead while talking on her phone. Opening the door and dropping her school bag on the floor of it, Connie stepped into the car and clicked her seatbelt together.

"How was school," Priyanka said, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Fine" Connie replied. "We had a surprise pop quiz in Spanish, but I did pretty well." She made sure to leave out her classmates antics. The last thing she needed was to have Mom going to the principal and making it harder to show her face.

"I have some History homework, but it should be easy." She said, slightly grinning

"Still you need to get it done and done right. And remember, you have violin lessons tonight at 5:30, and I don't want you to be late."

"Yes mom." Connie stated, her grin fading.

Noticing the optimism now nonexistent in her voice, Priyanka peered toward her. Connie was now staring out the window, elbow propped on the door, watching the familiar buildings and shops change to the identical houses that made up the suburbs her family lived in. Mrs. Maheswaran pondered why her daughter seemed so down. Bad grade on an assignment? No, Connie was too smart for that. Someone at school bugging her? No, she's never said anything beforehand, and Mrs. Maheswaran knew who her daughter associated with, so it couldn't be that. Not knowing what to do, she looked halfway to her daughter, eyes still focused on neighborhood roads, and spoke up.

"We're having Italian tonight for dinner, your favorite. The four-cheese lasagna right?"

Seeing her grin return, Connie turned to her mother and nodded. Seeing her daughter's mood lifted, Priyanka focused on the road again, a grin appearing on her own face.

How dare you make your mother worry

It was 9:00. Connie was currently laying on her bed, reading The Unfamiliar Familiar, the first of her so far favorite book series, the Spirit Morph Saga. Right now, Lisa, the main protagonist, was being told by her 'familiar', Archimicarus, that the Unknown One-Eyed Man was after her and ability to cast magical spells. Her parents were currently watching TV down in the foyer. After eating dinner and giving her usual response to her dad when asked "How was school?", she silently walked up the stairs to her room, while her parents gathered and washed the dishes.

Connie enjoyed moments like this: lost in fictional stories, not having to worry about mean comments or rogue spitballs jarring her from this state. However, it wasn't long before a certain urge was recognized. One she was all too familiar with. One that got so irresistible and powerful, that she noticed she had read the same sentence 15 times.

You need this

Putting her bookmark in and closing the book before setting on her nightstand, Connie sat up and began feeling along the left bedpost for it. Feeling the course texture of tape and the smoothness of the blade, she ripped it off the wooden frame. Seeing the broken box cutter blade, she spun it in her hand, remembering the time she found it. It had been when they had first moved to Emerald City a few months ago. Again, it was for her dad's job, and again, it was decided long before they told her. It had been discarded into a junk drawer once they were moved in, but she rediscovered it and had used it ever since.

Rolling up her sleeve, she brought the blade up, waiting for the relief she would feel from it. Slicing a line horizontally across her arm, she felt the anguish of the day melt. The hurt from her classmates actions and words seem to seep out of her with every cut along with the blood. That voice inside her was quieted by every movement of the serrated metal.

This went on for a couple minutes. Soon, the pain from Connie's arm outweighed the relief. Going to her nightstand and taking out 3 band-aids and some tissues, Connie began cleaning her cuts. After putting on the last Cookie Cat bandage, she walked toward the bathroom, preparing for bed. After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas. Crawling under the covers, she soon fell into a blissful slumber.

Not realizing how drastic or quick a change would soon come.