"As day melts into night, life turns into day, so many things occur that life becomes impossible to keep up with. Believe it or not but life is one of the many things that we can't understand and I doubt we will ever grasp the true concept of it.
'What if life is actually just a myth and this is all just a dream? But then, how can that dream be explained?
'Maybe this is just a childish fantasy that we develop to escape the real world. Maybe your all just figments of my imagination, maybe you don't truly exist. But if you don't, that means that my mind is just making me think all of this is. I feel like I can touch you, feel you, see you and hear you but my mind could be making it all up.
'What if I'm dead? What if death as we know it takes us back into the real world where we don't imagine, where we have to learn everything again?
'We can never really put our trust in a person, if we feel that they do not exist, maybe that is why our mind has to make something real. Is that why love can be so hard? Is it hard because our mind makes it harder for us to get over somebody? Perhaps we have never actually loved anyone, maybe it is an illusion that always evades our concentration. We could simply be-"
"STABBING IDIOTS LIKE YOU!"
The class bursts into laughter. You lowered your head as the laughter carried on, your [h/c] falling in front of you as you examined the floors bleak surface.
"Hey Psycho? Go kill somebody and see if your dreams come true!"
"They would! She wants to be in a mental asylum!"
As the endless laughter continues you picked up the rest of your smudged report, you knew it was your fault for using a gel pen, and shuffled back to your dreary desk that was separated from everyone else. As you dragged your feet along the all to clean floor the class jerk, Mark, sticks his foot out and trips you over without even thinking twice.
He lets a meak laugh escape his throat yet again and reaches out his hand to help your body up off of the ground. Grasping his hand you let a sigh of relief out to the class and five seconds later you're back, lying on the floor with your mouth hanging open slightly. It's now that you can be certain that life has a strong feeling of hatred towards you and everything you stand for.
"Aww, poor little Psycho! You gonna go running home telling your Mom how much we all hate you?"
Standing up you begin to brush your new shirt off in anguished silence. With a defeated expression and a head hung in shame you pick up your now water stained book whilst holding the anger you wanted to let out on him in. Muttering, you begin to talk to yourself, making you look even more like a madman.
"What kind of jerks are these people Mam? Why did we have to move from England to America? Why did dad make me do this? These people are so dumb!"
Mark must have heard the last sentence because within a few seconds he picked you up by the shoulders with a heavy grasp and glared you in the eye, a look of evil fleeting through them.
"What did you just say?"
You gulp, knowing exactly what'll happen next. He'll throw your body into the ground, stand on your stomach and give you a black eye. But, thank God, Dan- one of the only teacher's you can call by his first name- comes in at that exact moment. Mark drops you and glares at you without hesitation, an anguished sigh leaving his lips.
You return to your seat and look at the whole class, you were literally the only person at the back of the class and you liked it that way- no one could hit you from behind and you could see everything that went on during lessons. For once in your life, for some reason you can't even concentrate on Dan's speech about Shakespeare.
Your mind wanders and you end up wondering what heaven looks like. Your [e/c] orbs absent mindedly stared directly at a boy. The only thing that you can think of is his name- Loki Lauferson. He has black hair and, in your mind, he is utterly gorgeous. A blush spread itself across your cheeks as you tapped your pen onto the table. His icy blue eyes send shivers down your spine, their cold gaze piercing right through you every time they look near you. You find him to be surreal, the black hair that resides on his head seems to be too perfect to be real and his skin is almost porcelain- he's almost a perfect doll.
Eventually, your mind drags itself back to reality and you notice his eyes looking you up and down avidly, a smirk painted on his face. You sharply move your eyes away from him, your heart skipping a beat before the school's bell rang loudly in your ears- time for you to go and get beaten up by a recently made enemy.
You pulled your keys out from the door and slam it shut, the noise ringing through the house heavily. It had happened to you again and, if you were going to be honest with yourself, it scared you more than it hurt.
On your way home, Mark had stepped in front of you just as you had expected and, as per usual, he had his 'gang' of friends with him- they were probably bullied into it now that you thought about it. I couldn't believe how much of a jerk he was. He was too scared to face you alone from what you could see, acting as if he were the strongest kid in the country. He was a fake guy, always pretending to be tough, but you could clearly tell that he wasn't; he was trying to impress Amber.
Amber was the most 'popular' girl in school according to what you'd heard, constantly flaunting herself. If Amber didn't like you, nobody liked you and Amber certainly didn't like you. Although, that was pretty understandable when you thought about it.
On the first day of school- you say the first day, it was halfway through the school year but it was your first day, everyone was already in their friend groups adn you knew it would be hard to talk to anyone- and you'd walked through the doors greeted by hateful stares from cold, unpleasant eyes. You were pretty much used to that, so, thinking nothing of it, you just carried on walking through the thin corridors that were crammed full with people.
You could pretty much perfectly remember what you were wearing and, for no apparent reason, you began to dwell on it. Black skinny jeans clung tightly to your legs, a Joker shirt hanging for your thin shoulders. You were wearing a pair of simple studs as earrings that you'd had for some time and had been given them by one of your friends from England.
Unfortunately for you, you had been a little bit drunk on lack of sleep nad in the mist of it all had convinced yourself that it would be a good idea to dye the tips of your hair a dark black. thanks to your hate of having a darker colour in your hair when compared to your natural [h/c] you couldn't help but redye the entire thing for school and as you walked around you felt more than simply awkward.
Opening your thin, metal locker, you threw your bag onto the lowest shelf, its body making the thin metal sigh. wIt was only to be expected with all the things that you'd packed to keep you going through the day. you pulled out your iPod and shoved it as far to the back as you could and placed a light text book on top of it to hide it from anyone who broke into your locker.
5 minutes later and you had your numerous textbooks, dictionary, actual school books, a few posters and ring binder unpacked. You pulled out a bottle of water out of your bag and began to take a sip of it, untwisting the lid just as a girl walked over to you, her hips swaying profusely; Amber.
You couldn't tell what it was that made her notice you- perhaps it was your shirt or perhaps it was you hair. Whatever it was you knew that it wasn't going to be good news no matter what the outcome,
"Aw, aren't you just so pretty" you turned around, stunned by the comment. Whoever it was carried on talking, a snobby and highly annoying voice reaching your ears, "It's such a shame your not friend material - I mean look at you." Whoever this stranger was, they were going to have an injury in a second no matter what they did next and, after a brief pause, a hand grasped your hair and tugged at it, "Look at the outcast who was eyeing the new boy in class- loner's should hang out together I guess.' You heard an echoing "Right". The girl who was talking to you was clearly the ring leader of this entire escapade.
You turned back around once again and felt a tap on your shoulder- this was exactly what you wanted. Grabbing your backback by its handle you swung it round with so that anybody who was in my way would be hit. "I really don't care about your opinions; why not find somebody who cares? I am who I am, if you don't like it you need to get a life." You heard a quiet, nervous laugh from the back of the group as the girl who had tugged at your hair grinded her teeth at the sensation of feeling a sturdy backpack bashing her shins.
"I'm sorry you mightn't recognise me," the girl laughed obnoxiously. "I'm-"
"Amber. I know that."
"Huh?" She was dazed at your comment, her pupils shrinking drastically as she regained eye contact.
"I've heard so much about you, I just couldn't wait to meet you."
She laughed again, her voice coming out louder and more potent than before, "I am the most popular girl around here, so that's only to be expected!"
Your lips smirked at her, your mouth completely ignoring your brains demand to stop, "I couldn't wait to meet you because I wanted to tell you something."
She looked back at the group and smiled sarcastically at them, the look still lingering on her face as she turned back to you, "And that is?"
"You need to calm down and come back to Earth. You're not popular, you're a bully who takes advantage of people. I hate you without even knowing you."
And with that, you had began walk away to your next class, ignoring the shocked gasps approaching from behind your back as your locker door slammed shut.
From that moment on, you knew that everyone would hate you as long as Amber kept up whatever rumours she was going to be spreading around but, if you were being honest, you weren't exactly bothered- you didn't seem particularly intrigued by any of her so called friends. You hated bullies more than having no friends so you were fine with everything that was going on.
That's probably why Mark choose to bully you almost constantly and why the rest of the school tried their best to make each day a living hell for you, but you still couldn't be bothered. You had already been there for 2 days and, as worried as you had previously been, your nerves had already dulled down by a lot.
"Dad?" It was weird for him not to be home by this time and it almost worried you, "Dad, are you here?" When you gained no response you flicked up the door handle quickly, discovering the blissful silence of the house.
You ran into the kitchen, grabbed 2 bags of frozen peas and, out of habit, climbed up the stairs two at a time and ran into your claustrophobic sized room. You seized the door handle and slammed it behind you heavily, hoping that the neighbours didn't hear. it open.
You untied the ribbon from around your slender neck and took the decorative key to the mouth of the lock, pushing the jagged edge in. You twisted it carefully and, as the lock clicked into place, you gulped somewhat loudly. Well at least the world couldn't touch you here.
Your left wall was infested by superhero posters that made you seem like a nerd to most of the people who had ever been in your room- none of them being a boyfriend, ever. Every square inch was covered by them, each of them smiling at you from their permanently fixed position.
Lynda, the woman who runs the local DIY shop in [town name], had given you a job around a year ago. You'd worked there for about 6 months before someone had blurted it out to your highly possessive dad. Lynda was always nice to you- she's help you find an aisle with a customer, she'd help you with cash register, anything you needed she's be there to help you.
When you'd left, or rather forced to leave, she'd been more than simply supportive or caring. She had given you your final paycheck and it was double what you were usually paid and you had instantly felt guilt stricken over how you were leaving her to find another employee. You'd refused to take it because you felt like she needed the money to look after her family.
Since you had refused to take it she'd kept smuggling you free tins of paint to decorate your walls the way you truly wanted them.
Your eyes looked over to your right hand wall; it was a deep green in colour that had lighter green and gold paint splatters moulded across it that you had had fun creating whilst your dad was either away or asleep.
You limped over to the single bed that encompassed most of your room, seeming to dwarf all of the other assets and raised your kneels to your chest gingerly, whimpering as your leg flinched in pain. You put one of the two bags on my left shin and the other bag on my right thigh cautiously, hoping that it wouldn't bruise.
You started to relax; your dad wasn't home so you could relax without any worries and take a break from the harsh reality of life.
But, of course, that didn't entirely work out for you because, mere moments later, a door clicked somewhere downstairs and you knew exactly what you had to do to get away from the rapid moving footsteps that began to haunt your memories.