I hate myself.

Most people think, 'Oh, look it's Lizzie' 'Isn't she pretty?' 'Isn't her life just perfect?' 'The model teen for model America'. But they don't know. They don't know that someone so much like me could ever be tainted like I've been. They don't know that most of America is tainted. I was the odd one out, the one that was innocent, and my number came up. Innocence never lasts.

They don't know that I;

hate myself hurt myself blame myself cut myself cry myself to sleep kill myself in dreams.

I was surprised, even at myself, on how easy it was to act like it didn't happen. How easy it was to make them think 'nothing' happened. They don't know that something did. The words are still hard to form, even in my head, even now.

Rape.

It's a fitting word for the act. To say it starts out slow, then it turns sharp, and painful. It's the one word I can never hear myself say aloud.

'Lizzie wouldn't know what that was.' 'Lizzie wouldn't get hurt like that.' 'Who would ever do this to sweet Lizzie?'

Lizzie knows the truth. It was a harsh way to learn about life, but it worked. Too well. Now, I have to try not to scream when Miranda touches me. I have to try not to recoil when I hear a loud sound. I have to try not to flinch if someone gets to close to me.

I have to try not to kill him everytime he walks down the hall.

And when I get home at the end of the day, pulling off another great acting job, I can cry. I'm surprised they don't know, because I'm not that great of an actor. Do they even suspect?

Gordo saw me once, staring into nothing. I thought he couldn't see me, that I was alone. That's when I'm safe. When I'm alone is the only time I can let myself go. Show my true face, and it's a frightening one to bare.

He said nothing, but he's tentative whenever he's around me now. He tried to hug me once, and I resisted the urge to stab him with my pencil. I resisted the urge to stab myself.

I know what they would say, if they ever suspected.

'Lizzie, you can talk to us.' 'Lizzie, is it that bad.' 'What's wrong, Lizzie?'

No. Yes. Everything.

That's all they need to know, and they don't even know that.

I see my mom sometimes. I mean really see her. I never did before, ignorant to everything that didn't envolve me. I see her flinch when someone sneeks up on her. I watch her always sit against the wall when we go out. Just like me. I never noticed it until now. Now that he hurt me.

But she doesnt' know. They don't know that I was...Raped. Violated. Hurt. Jaded. Non of it seems to fit in my own mind.

What happened that night, to me. It wasn't those things. That night...was the night I died.

I'm dead.