Hero:

A man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength

High school—it instills fear into thousands of teens. Whether you're a freshman, sophomore, junior, or even a senior, the thought of school scares you. You might hide it better than others, but it's in your instincts to fear it. There are a million bad things that can happen at school. It's a place where your parents can get rid of you for eight hours a day, what good could come of it?

With minimum adult supervision and lack of authority, school is the breeding ground for bullying. It happens to even the most popular. You're always put under a microscope, people studying your every move. Do one thing "uncool" and you're suddenly the new laughing stock. You're outlawed and banned to sitting near the trashcans in the cafeteria. You're stuck sitting in the front of the classroom. You're the new target for swirlys.

Suddenly, your best friends from middle school "don't know who you are." You find comfort in hanging out with other "rejects" and find yourself fitting into the label you've been given. I'm a nerd, so I'll wear glasses. I'm an emo, so I'll cut myself. I'm a jock, so I'll use steroids. I'm a prep, so I'll get fake boobs.

You live in your little label because if you don't, there won't be any order. There will be no food chain—no prey, no predator. You suck it up and take the pain because that's what you've been taught to do. Bullying? Unavoidable; teachers and staff will always look the other way so they "didn't see what was happening."

That is why I stood scared shitless at the doors of school my first day of freshman year. That is why I was considered shy and labeled "emo." That is why I sat in the back of the cafeteria next to the trashcans. That is why I was picked on endlessly and eventually when the pain became too much, I cut myself.

If it worked for others, shouldn't it work for me? So I did it. I became addicted to it. But then just a little blood wasn't enough to solve my problems. I started doing drugs and drinking—sometimes at the same time. It led to being picked on more and eventually to my parents forcing me to go to therapy.

But nothing, nothing can stop the bullying. Which is why I stood cornered in the bathroom, three preps standing in front of me with their claws out, ready to attack. "Look here, freak, I've seen the way you look at my boyfriend and it's starting to really piss me off," the leader, Ashley, said.

"Yeah, like really piss her off," her follower added on.

"Guys, look, I don't even know who he is," I said, peeking over their shoulder, hoping someone would need to pee at that exact second.

"Guys?" They shrieked.

"I mean girls! I seriously don't know what you're talking about."

"How can you not know my boyfriend? I should like hurt you just for saying that." The door creaked open and my art teacher's head poked in, looking for an open stall. I took that as my cue to get my arse out of there.

"Hey!" The screams came but I was already long out of the bathroom. I could hear their clunky heals on my trail. I thanked whoever was up there that I wore converse that day. I took a sharp turn into the next hallway and ran straight into the principal. Just my luck.

The three girls finally caught up with me, all of us were short on breath. I looked up awkwardly at him and his disapproving gaze. How was I going to explain this? And just like that Ashley chirped up. "Mister, this lunatic just tried to attack me! Out of nowhere!"

"That's a lie!" I protested, but too late. Those in authority always believe the most respected choice, not the most reliable choice. If someone with straight A's says they didn't do their homework, they're going to choose him over someone who is failing the class. That's just how the world turns, I guess.

"Hannah, you know where the counselor is. I expect to see you there within the next five minutes." The girls snickered behind me.

"Yes, sir," I said before walking off to the said room. Mr. Williamson sat in his chair like he had been expecting me.

"Ah, Hannah, do come in." I sprawled across the couch opposite of him.

"'Principal sent me here," I told him.

"What happened?" he asked me, pulling out a clipboard and paper from beside him.

"Nothing."

"So he sent you here for doing 'nothing'?"

"Yes."

"Did someone else do something?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Where were you?"

"Hallway."

"Skipping class?"

"Bathroom trip."

"Was someone else in the bathroom?"

"Just me."

"Did you take too long?"

"No."

"How long were you there?"

"A couple minutes."

"Were you taking anything in there?"

"No."

"Smoking anything?"

"No."

"Was anyone else smoking in there?"

"I already told you, it was just me."

"Okay…how did it make you feel?"

"What make me feel?"

"Him sending you to me?"

"I didn't care."

"What class are you missing?"

"Math."

"How does that class make you feel?"

"I don't know."

"Elaborate."

"I don't really care."

"Do you feel like you don't care about anything?"

"I care about some things."

"Like?"

"I don't know…stuff."

"Do you care about your own life, Hannah?"

"Yes."

"So you wouldn't purposely hurt yourself?"

"No."

"So where did the cuts on your arm come from?"

"I told you…I don't know."

"They just appeared there?"

"Yeah."

"Were you abused?"

"No."

"Did your father ever…do things to you?"

"Of course not."

"So he never touched you when you didn't want him to?"

I jumped out of my chair. "What the hell?" I yelled. "Nothing's wrong with me! My dad didn't rape me! Nothing happened in the bathroom! I'm going back to class!" I slammed the door shut behind me.

When I arrived back to class there was snickering in the back of the classroom. "Hannah, what took you so long?" My math teacher asked me.

"Nothing," I said, sitting in my seat.

"I'll see you after class." More snickering and some full out laughing…I sunk deeper in my seat.

...

After class my teacher told me that I would have to see him after school for the next two days to make up the notes I missed and also to get my grade to passing. He said if I didn't then he would have to get the principal and my counselor involved. I told him he didn't need to bother, that I'd be there.

When I was done packing up my bag I took the back doors of the school, knowing that the football team and cheerleaders usually had practice until later. I had managed to leave the school unharmed when a voice spoke behind me, "Look what the cat brought in."

"Dragged in," I corrected, turning around to see Ashley, her hands on her hips.

"Let's finish what we started earlier, shall we?"

"Um, how about—ow!" Someone yanked on my hair—hard. The person was pulling so hard that I was arching my back.

"I bet under all that makeup you might even be pretty," Ashley said while advancing to me.

"Funny," I said through grit teeth. "I could say the same."

The next little while became a blur. I mean, I know my hair got pulled in a million different directions. Someone violently pulled out my nose ring. My necklace was yanked off of me, breaking in the process. Something wet was pulled across my face. My body felt numb. Sadistic laughs echoed from above me. And sometime during the whole process, it started raining.

They left and I couldn't get myself to get off of the pavement. My whole body was cold and wet. I was shivering like a crazy person. My head pounded from the excessive hair pulling, and I just couldn't scrounge up the willpower to stand up.

The crack of lightning sounded in the distance but I ignored it. I would get up and go home…later—later when I had more energy, when my head wasn't pounding, when I felt like getting up. I closed my eyes to shield them from the puddle I was lying face down in. The water mixed with salt leftover from winter burned my eyes. My shivers slowly stopped until the only thing I was aware of was the soft beat of the rain drumming on my skin.