So... I decided to re-write this A/N about half a year later because it was embarrassing.

Basically: Bullying sucks. It isn't funny or cool or make you seem all high and mighty. Bullying is terrible, and most kids experience it through their school lives and even adults experience it in the workplace. It is not cool.

I wrote this during a somewhat difficult time of exposure to the real nature of human beings, and I can say with first hand experience: ignoring it doesn't make it go away. That's a load of bull. If you're being bullied, tell someone - anyone you trust.

This story is for the kids who get bullied and are never heard. Suicide isn't the answer. It's not your fault you're being bullied, you've done nothing wrong. It's not your fault this idiotic world can't a moment to stop and see how messed up it is. It isn't your fault.

Please don't do anything drastic, because I swear: someone is going to hear you and you're going to get someone on your side. I promise. Even its horrible and you're on the brink, someone's going to pull you back. you're going to be alright, and it's going to get better.

If it doesn't, I'm giving up on the world and moving to Mars, and you're welcome to join me. No one deserves it. I love you and so many other people do as well: it's gonna be fine. You'll get through. We're here for you. :)

With my dramatic spiel out of the way, please read my story. Don't enjoy it, because that would be weird. Leave your opinion in the reviews: show some love. People need it.

Note: Any relation to people living or dead is purely coincidental. all characters are Fictional.

Edit 30/11/2014: I've rewritten this so it's not so 2013.

The buzzing alarm was incessant but I didn't move. It would be easier to pretend I was still asleep. I couldn't deal with it today. I didn't want to deal with the taunts awaiting me, the horrible messages I would have no doubt received.

"Kat? Katherine!" mum shouted, her feet heavy as she walked down the hall. "You'll be late for school again!" I groaned and rolled on my side, holding my stomach. The door opened and I saw my mum, hands on her hips.

"I don't feel well, mum," I lied. "Can I not go to school today? I feel like I'm going to be sick." It wasn't that much of a lie. Thinking about what I had to face was enough to make me feel physically sick and my head pound. She crossed the room and pressed a hand against my forehead, tutting.

"Well, Katherine," she said sternly, "You felt sick yesterday, and the day before that. All week, actually. Why don't you want to go to school?" Despite her tone, there was a smile in her voice. She thought it was just teenagers being teenagers. Why wouldn't she assume that? She had no idea what was really going on.

"Oh.. just a test today," I lied again, and a smile graced her pretty face. Why couldn't I be pretty like her?

"You can't ignore tests, sweetie. Don't worry, tomorrow we can go out together. Have some girl on girl time," she said as she left the room. I felt terrible lying to mum, but I didn't want her to find out about school.

Once upon a time in Year Four, Jessamyn Lainly was the new student at school. She was pretty, got way more pocket money than anyone in class and had three dogs. All the girls in class flocked to her, and I was one of them. I tried to act cool around her: I didn't play with my Pokémon cards at lunch, I ignored my older brother Jake - he was in Year Six and always tried to include me in their games at recess - and took some of my mum's makeup in an effort to be pretty like Jessamyn. Jessamyn was all smiles and happiness and buying lollies for everyone at lunch - except me. She simply didn't like me and told people all about it: she called me fake and ugly for the makeup I wore in effort to impress her and told everyone I was fat because I couldn't run fast and said I was a nerd because I liked Pokémon. Jessamyn's word was law and suddenly the whole grade hated me, my best friend Emily ignored me and my relationship with Jake was in tatters. There was no reason for her to hate me: she just did. I could blame Jessamyn for ruining my life, I just didn't have it in me. It was my fault, anyway. I was ugly and fake and fat and a nerd and a waste of space.

My phone buzzed and I picked it up, staring at the bright screen. The symbol of Kik glared back at me and I sighed, sliding my thumb across the screen and opening it. It was the usual messages.

Kara Ellison: Waste of space go suck it why use up our air when it could be put to better use? Slutty bitch!

Danielle Abada: You're a fucking retard and you should go get a knife and off yourself no one cares about you Fuck you bitch

Jessamyn Lainly: You fucking bitch just kill yourself no one will care.

Sarah Hughes: Ugly bitch why are even still here? Just kill yourself already no one cares

I deleted the messages quickly, each word twisting up my insides. My phone pinged again and I sighed, flinging it back onto my bedside. I picked my pillow up and smothered my face, screwing my eyes shut to fight the oncoming tears. Kill yourself now. Quick and easy. I was getting harder and harder to ignore those thoughts, urging me to kill myself. I was too scared to do it. Yet.

"We're leaving, Kat!" Mum yelled up the stairs. "I have to take Jake to the dentist!"

"Alright!" I yelled back, rolling out of bed. The door slammed as they left and I trudged across my room, pulling on my school uniform quickly. I ignored my idling computer which occasionally pinged with Facebook updates - all new PMs filled with reasons why I should kill myself - and retrieved my phone. Soon I was out on my bike, earbuds in and on the way to school. But music couldn't block out the boys behind me as they yelled out my name, laughing.

"Look who it is? Kitty Shit!" one shouted, and the rest laughed. Their nickname - Kitty Shit - had stuck since year six, when Blake Hamilton and Josiah whatever his last name was filled my locker with cat litter. And the fact I shorten my name to Kat didn't help.

"Cleaned the litter lately, Kitty Shit?" one yelled, and I ignored them, pedalling faster. They all quickly caught up on their bikes and then one reached out and shoved me. I squealed and toppled off the side of my bike, and they laughed like hyenas. One ran over my I-Pod, and a loud crack emitted from it. They rode off down the road, laughing and high-fiving as they wobbly rode close to each other. I laid there on my side, my bike on top of me, and just cried. You won't have to deal with this when you're dead, the voice soothed as I stood up, scooping up my cracked I-Pod and righting my bike.

"You may be onto something," I muttered, and I pushed my bike along the path towards school.

Jessamyn stood by her locker with Jessica O'Keeffe and Mackenzie Stewart. They whispered to themselves, pointing at me occasionally. I ignored them, walking up to my locker and then pausing. Someone had gotten a marker and written across the front.

KITTY SHIT

There were a few snickers as boys passed behind me, and Jessamyn and Mackenzie laughed as Jessica pulled out her phone to take a photo. My eyes burned as I reached up and tried to rub it away. It was no use: who ever did the deed had used permanent marker.

"Look's like Kitty Shit is gonna cry!" Mackenzie said loudly, and laughter ensued. I fought back tears, clenching my teeth and my fists. I couldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I calmly grabbed my books and walked off down the hall, my head high. Everyone stared. When I made it to the bathroom, I locked myself in a cubicle and then I couldn't hold it in any longer. I sobbed. It'll be fast and easy. So many ways to do it, the voice told me. I kept sobbing, and nothing but the bell could make me stop.

"And as we dissect the frog's stomach, we see the contents..." My biology teacher droned on. I was nearly sick as I dragged the scalpel along the dead frog's stomach. This would be perfect. In front of everyone, nice and quick. Just drag it across your wrist, or your neck... the voice suggested. As the teacher told us to stop, I put my hands under the table, unaware I was still holding the scalpel. Suddenly there was a bite of pain as I drew it along my wrist, and I bit my lip as it flared. After the pain, I felt the worst emotion ever: relief.

The bell rang for lunch and I collected my books and walked out into the halls and into the courtyard. I sat alone, as usual. It felt good, didn't it? the voice said. I'd only cut shallowly, and I was hiding my wrists with under colourful bands I'd found in my locker after the last fundraiser. No one could know... not that they cared. I was already enough of a freak as it is. I ate my sandwich quickly, eager to get out of the open. Too late. Jessamyn sauntered over with her gang of girls.

"Got any messages lately, Kat Shit?" she asked poisonously, and the girls giggled. I shook my head.

"Nope. I've had an empty inbox lately," I said, forcing a smile. Jessamyn was unfazed.

"Obviously people are too busy having actual lives to message you," she said, her words cutting into me. I winced, and the girls laughed as they moved on. I cast my eyes down. Why me?

I sat down at my desk with a can of soft drink beside me, opening Facebook. Too many new comments. All hateful. I read through, growing more and more angry as I read them. Finally, I screamed, picking up my laptop and smashing it on the ground. My phone buzzed with a new message, so I through it out the window. Now, Kat. Now. Go do it, the voice urged. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I threw myself onto my bed and cried, not caring I'd just destroyed my laptop and thrown my phone out.

Later when mum was yelling at me for breaking my birthday present, I remained impassive and told her it was an accident. We fought and she grounded me, so I went upstairs and sat in the bathroom with Jake's razor. After I'd cleaned the blood out of the sink, I laid in bed with a crooked smile on my face.

The pain felt good.

Two Months Later

My phone buzzed all through the night. I could hear it, through the window from its hole in the garden, growing louder and louder until it echoed around my room and I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed, my legs moving on their own as I numbly walked into the bathroom. It won't hurt, Kat, the voice said calmly. I cried silently as I opened one of the cupboards, pulling out the razor. I'd been preparing for this for so long now. I turned the knobs and hot water gushed from the tap, filling the bath. They did this to you.

"They did this to me," I whispered, mimicking the voice. They drove you to this.

"They drove me to this," I said, as I sat in the bath, my clothes soaked. I dimly heard mum knocking on the door, demanding to know why I was taking a god damned bath at two am. They'll pay, and feel pain like you will.

"Pain," I whispered, fat tears falling down my face as I slicked. Cold metal. Terrible pain. I didn't stop at two slashes as usual, no, I kept going. Cut after cut as red bloomed on my arm. A slash for everything that had ever hurt until my arm was red and steam was choking me and I couldn't breathe as blood stained the water in beautiful, flowing patterns.

"Pain," I breathed as I slid into the water, the door slamming open as hands grabbed at my shoulders and unrecognisable faces screamed soundlessly at me.

My vision tunnelled and I was enveloped by cold and a peaceful silence.

"Pain."