Hey guys, new story :) well not really. This is a one-shot, and if you like it, I'll turn it into a real story. Yeah, this will be boring, but it'll be a lot more interesting in actual story-form. WARNING: THIS IS VERY DARK AND CONTAINS CUTTING.
Btw, I own everything.
"Okay students, turn to page 52. Start reading."
My blonde, scrawny little teacher scurried to her desk, which was probably twice the size of her. I picked up my pen and drew on my hands; names of bands covered my palm as a rose wrapped around my pinkie, leading up to my onyx black finger nail, the ink filling the crease in my knuckle.
"Stacy!" Mrs. Fall hissed from her monstrous desk. "Read! It's like you never pay attention!"
"I'm sorry. I'll read now," I said small-ish. I looked down at my textbook; oh-so thrilled to bore myself to death as the sound in my mind droned on about the Civil War.
Suddenly, something hit me in the back of the head, knocking all thoughts out of my brain. I looked behind to see the "popular" clique snickering. I focused my vision down at the crumpled piece of paper next to my desk. Reluctant, I picked it up. "Everyone hates you." Figures.
"Stacy, passing notes!" the teacher snatched the paper right out of my hand. She read it with her glasses down to her nose. "Who wrote this?"
"Dean did," Brittany, who actually wrote the note, pointed to the innocent boy next to her. He threw his hands up in frustration.
"What? I did no such thi-"
"Dean, office! NOW!" Mrs. Fall growled, with a hard expression plastered on her wrinkled old face. Dean cursed under his breath and stomped out the room.
As the dismissal bell rang through the halls, the class stood up and grabbed their backpacks, trampling over each other to get out the classroom. Of course, the tiny teacher was speaking, completely oblivious of the chattering teenagers.
I walked alone down the crowded hallway, like usual. I tried getting to my locker without being tripped and falling on my face, unfortunately that didn't work out too well. The tripper gathered with his giant jock friends, snickering at me. I sighed and brushed myself off. I should've gotten used to this by now.
The hallway had cleared out, meaning buses were leaving. I didn't care. I walked home every day.
My converse made noises that rang through the entire high school as I made my way to my locker. Of course, I had some surprises. Taped on my locker were notes from other kids. "EMO FAG!" "GO KILL YOURSELF!" "NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!" is what they read. Did my eyes deceive me? I prayed they did every day, but I'm never mistaken. I threw my backpack across the hallway and screamed.
"WHY!" I yelled. I ripped the papers off of the locker and shoved them far into the trash can. I furiously pushed in my combination and tossed my books in. Slamming the locker and grabbing my backpack, I trudged out of the school. The buses had already pulled away. I just ignorantly stomped down the sidewalk, ignoring all else. I took out my journal and furiously started writing, pretty much carving words into the paper. It seemed to relive my anger; sooth my pain and tension.
I slammed my bedroom door and continued to write. Letting out my feelings calmed my down, but then makes me realize the reality of the situation. When I was finished, I ripped the note out of the journal and threw it in my drawer with the others.
I grabbed my knife and sat down on my bed. I slowly ran the blade across my wrist, careful enough to not slice my artery open.
My blood dripped down my forearm and stained my shirt sleeve. It stung. I tried to keep myself from yelling out. After I was done, I dialed my best friend Brandy.
"Brandy. I can't take it anymore. I've been pushed over the edge."
"I agree." She replied back, sighing.
"Pack your bags."
"What? You think it's time?"
"Definitely. We leave at dawn."
"But where will we go?" she whined.
"To be honest?" I looked down. "I have no idea."
So what'd ya think? Review and lemme know :)