This is for a mature audience. Suicidal thoughts, self-harm, mild swearing, mild violence, hints of lust, and bullying are mention throughout the story.

O.o

"When people hurt you over and over, think of them like sandpaper. They may scratch and hurt you a bit, but in the end, you'll be polished, and they'll be useless," –Chris Colfer

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"Fag!" A boy yelled as he slammed Simon's body harshly against the metal lockers in the school hallways. He pinned his arms down to his sides as he moved his face unbearable close to the other's face. His breath was stale and his grip was strong. Simon bit his lip as he tried to hold back tears.

Simon had been in situations like this before. It started back in elementary school, but that was all child's play. Name-calling and making faces wasn't too bad. By 5th grade, they bullies had stepped it up a notch. "Accidental" shoving in the hallways, tripping, and the occasional slap on the back of the head. Things escalated quickly from 5th grade. Physical and emotion abuse followed when someone told the whole school that Simon Seville was gay. There was no escaping this emotion hell. What was high school going to be like? 8th grade was bad enough. How much worse could it get?

"Whatch thinking Snowflake?" Nathan asked seductively. "You want it?"

Simon tried to squirm out of his tight grip.

"No!" He replied. His voice was shaking. "Just because I like boys doesn't mean I like you!"

"Why not? I'm so…" He paused winking. "Sexual…" Nathan purred.

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"There you are! Where have you- what happened to your lips? They're all… bruised…" Jeanette said worryingly. She led Simon over to the lunch table with the rest of the gang. Simon averted his gaze away from the rest of the group. His face was red from embarrassment. There was no way he was going to let everyone know what had happened just a few minutes ago.

"Simon." She said softly looking into the empty eyes of her counterpart. "What happened?"

He looked away slowly. The others at the table looked concerned too.

"Nothing, Jeanette. I… just got… um… hit in the face during PE."

"We have PE together, and I can tell you that we don't have PE today." Alvin interjected looking at his brother.

"Um… right." He mumbled. "I was…" 'Damn! What class did I just come from? Come on, think! What is wrong with me?'

"Simon?" Jeanette said softly.

"I fell. Um… I was reading a book and I ran into the wall." Simon lied. It was the best he could come up with in his current mental state.

"And you wonder why you were voted "student most likely to fall down"." Brittany said as she looked down at her nails.

"Brittany!" Eleanor scolded. "Not now."

Brittany scoffed in annoyance for being told off be her little sister.

"Um… I'm not really hungry. I'll see you guys later." Simon mumbled quickly leaving the lunch table. He gathered his barely touched lunch try and exited out of the lunch room. He sprinted to the nearest bathroom and locked the stall door.

Simon's breathing was heavy and jagged. He leaned his back against the cool stall door as he tried to compose himself. A wave of nausea hit Simon quickly. Food. It was beginning to turn against the teen. He barely ate at home and tried to stomach some food down at lunch so his brother and friends would suspect anything to be wrong. Simon never thought that just a bit of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would cause him the need to physically eject his stomach.

'No. Keep it down. This isn't healthy for you, and you know it. Everything is okay…'

'Lie.'

'No. No, it's not.'

'Bull! Don't tell me people call you a fag in the hallway because they care about you!'

'Why are you doing this to me?!'

'Is it really I doing this to you? Or are you belittling yourself. Essentially, I am you.'

'Shut up!'

'Nawh... I'm just getting started.'

Simon rose to his keens and gripped the toilet firmly. He could feel his hands and arms shaking violently. His vision blurred over as he felt the acidy taste of vomit in his throat. There wasn't any controlling this today.

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'Algebra II… done… Physical Science… worksheet… English- um… read The Unvanquished…' Simon felt his head throbbing as he tried to think of his classes from that day and what homework he hadn't done. He leaned his elbows onto the bottom of his locker and rubbed his temples. His eyes were tightly shut, and he felt light-headed.

'I'm not going to faint. I'm not going to faint. Just sit down for a minute.'

"Simon! Are you going to the library again?" Theodore called out to his brother. Simon turned his head towards Theodore instantly regretting it. His vision became blurred with black spots. He grabbed the side of his locker to stabilize himself.

"Um… yeah. I um… will be home around 4:30." Simon replied in a weak voice. Theodore nodded, but looked unease.

"Your face is really pale." Theodore noted. Simon blinked a few times trying to comprehend what was happening.

"Wa- oh, um… I guess I'm getting sick?" It was more of a question than an answer. Theodore seemed unsatisfied with the answer, but let it slide for the time being. He knew if Simon wasn't going to speak now, there was no reason to peruse the conversation.

"Okay… well, see you at home." Theodore said as he walked off to go meet Alvin and the chipettes in their usually waiting spot outside the school.

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The cool air of the library felt great to Simon. He just needed to sit down and have some peace and quiet.

Simon had two main reasons he had started coming to the library after school. One was to avoid Nathan and his cronies. Simon couldn't count how many times they had tried to physically assault him when he was walking to the end of the sidewalk. Going to the library for an hour was the best way to avoid even seeing them in the first place.

Second of all, it was a great place to compose himself. The room was quiet and always cool. He folded his arms put and rested his head on them.

'You're a wuss.'

'Go away, I'm not in the mood.'

'You're never in the mood… if you know what I mean…'

'Stop.'

'I find it amusing how you're having not only conflict with the world around you, but internal conflict with yourself.'

'Who are you….?'

'I've told you before. I am you.'

'But… you're… I'm not… but I can't…'

'What? You're a bully? Perhaps. A bully is someone who hurts someone physically or emotionally. What's the difference between them and yourself?'

'I don't understand…'

'There's more to you then I think even you know.'

'How am I even able to have these conversations with myself?'

'You lack attention, slightly desperate… You've created me out of pure loneliness.'

'Well I want you to go away.'

'I'm here to stay until you decide to do something.'

'You're not implying…?'

'What if I was? Do you think anyone would really miss you if we were gone?'

Simon opened his eyes with a quick jerk. That damned voice. If it didn't go away… but what if it was right? Could leaving this earth really be the answer to happiness? The young boy had never really thought much of suicide before, because, quite frankly, he knew he was too weak to do such a task. But, at the rate he was at mentally, it seemed like a better and better idea every day.

'I wouldn't… I couldn't…'

'You never know if you never try.'

"You're not helping!" Simon half-whispered to himself. He looked up at the clock. 4:15. Nathan and his band of idiots should be gone by now. Besides, he told Theodore he'd be home by 4:30.

Simon slowly stood up. He gripped the table for support so he wouldn't faint in the middle of the library and started his walk home.

'You wanna have another talk?'

'Not really.'

'You sure?'

'It's not like you're going to listen to me.'

'It pains me to see you mature so fast.'

'Your existence pains me.'

'That hurts.'

'You hurt.'

'Can emotion really hurt? It's abstract. It's not tangible. How come words hurt so much Simon? If I told you that you are amazing in everything you do, how come that doesn't hurt?'

'It's not the word, it's the meaning.'

'But aren't words just sounds put together? How can a sound hurt you?'

'I… I don't know.'

'I'm not hurting you. What you think the word means is hurting you. But then again, what the word means is just more words that are just more sounds put together. It's like a foreign language… it doesn't hurt you because you don't understand what the sounds mean. But what about babies? They don't understand when an abusive parent is shouting hatred at them, yet they still cry. Why? Tone is a key factor; wouldn't you agree? If I said that I was going to burn you in a really sweet way, what would happen? You'd be creped out, but why? I said it nicely; why are you creped out? Are certain tones and sounds not supposed to be put together, or-'

'Enough! This isn't philosophy 101. When did I become so… deep?'

'Depression can do a lot of weird things to you. Wouldn't you agree?'

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The Voice—not to be confused with the TV show—will be a big part of the story. Let me know if you think I'm over-using it. Since this is a serious story, I thought it'd be a good tool for some comic relief.

Review please.