ANGST! Hello, everyoneeee! So, more reason to hate myself...oh well.
I knew my world was falling apart when I was hiding in the bathroom, my back pressed against the door. The blood pounded in my ears, my breath quick and hot. I bit my lip, fighting back the tears that were rushing to my eyes. It didn't start out like this. It didn't start out with me hiding away, the fear crashing over me. It was never like this.
Let's go back to the beginning of 10th grade, the easy time when I was a carefree, popular Cheerio. When I had lots of friends, lots of spare time, even amazing, hot boyfriends. That was actually the time when I really had my eyes on Mike. He fit all of the criteria: handsome, amazing abs, super good dancer, really cute and he was some kind of cool stud. That's the time when I actually really started to want him. I guess Santana had different ideas when she asked him out herself. I acted like I was really excited and happy for her, but I really wasn't. I was really hurt. She is still dating Mike now, I think. It doesn't matter now, even though I think I want him the most out of both of us. There's times when I just stare into his deep, black eyes, reaching up for a piece of blonde hair to twirl. My hair was always in a ponytail for the Cheerios, so I couldn't grab on to anything. He was really handsome, his strong face and soft hair working perfectly.
A couple of days after San started dating Mike, I came up with a plan. I thought I would date San's real crush to make her jealous so she would break up with Mike. I knew she liked Matt by the way she would stare at him like I stared at Mike.
"Hey," I said, trying to be seductive. Matt looked over at me, raising an eyebrow.
"Uhh, hey," He replied, shoving things into his backpack. He took more things out of his messy locker, papers floating to the ground. He put his books sloppily in the bag and slammed his locker.
"I think we should go out," I said. S said being "straight forward" was always the best. She said that guys go crazy over it, "You're hot and I'm hot. It just makes sense." Matt laughed, slinging the bag over his shoulder. I guess he was pretty cute, but I didn't like him as much as I liked Mike. Matt had really nice skin and his eyes were pretty, too. I didn't really know him that good, but it didn't matter at that point.
"Okay," Matt laughed, putting his arm around my shoulders. I smiled to myself, thinking I could finally get the boy I wanted to put his arm around me. Matt was a little bit different, I guess. He never acted like any of my other boyfriends. He would constantly hold my hand or have his arm around my waist or something like that. Even if I would move his arm away from me for a little while, he'd put it right back. At least San would glance back at me and shoot me an evil squint. The fire in her eyes would burn me up, consuming my mind for a moment. I would look back at her innocently, but I knew that what I was doing was eating away at her. I missed S. I missed her phone calls, I missed her advice, I missed talking to her about my problems. She was the only one that ever listened. No one else wanted to talk to me or hear what I was saying. That feeling always shoved my heart down to the pit of my stomach, burying itself under all of the other feelings destroying me. Swallowing, I would look back over at Matt, an unsure smile toying with his lips. He would squeeze on to my hand uncomfortably. It didn't feel like normal hand holding. It felt like he was hold on to me like I would fly away if he let go. I would give him a weak smile, looking back ahead of me.
"Want to come over tonight?" Matt asked me one day after Glee Club, shuffling through his locker again. I leaned against the other vacant lockers, staring down the hallway at Mike and San. Mike smiled down at her, kissing her meaningfully. S smiled back, repeating Mike's movements. I pressed my lips into a thin line bitterly, snapping my head back to Matt. My eyes never really trailed away from the other couple as I nodded my head at my boyfriend. A devilish grin spread across his face as he leaned in to sloppily kiss me. His mouth didn't taste right to me. It was too salty and gross for me, but I kissed him back anyway. His tongue prodded awkwardly in my mouth until I pulled away from him, cutting off his kiss. He looked at me, offended. His eyebrows crumpled together, quickly fading back into a fake happiness, too sweet to be real, "I'll pick you up later, okay?"
"Okay," I nodded, defeated. The hallways were completely drained of people, everyone already gone from after-school clubs. With that, I picked my things up and walked down the hallway alone, the dim light gleaming off of the tiled floor. I clenched my hands together, feeling lonelier than ever.
Later that night, I sat in front of my mirror, brushing my hair out. I looked into my own eyes, bright blue and clear. I reminded myself of San, the way her eyes burned a little bit around the edges, aching for something missing. Something that I didn't fully understand, just like a lot of things. There were a whole bunch of things that didn't click for me. The fact that I came home and brushed my teeth for 5 minutes to get a certain taste out of my mouth, why I missed S so much, why Mr. Schue's hair was so greasy, why we had to go to math class...there was a lot. I stood up from my chair, adjusting my clothes. Clearing my throat, I fixed my shirt, tugging it back into place. I heard a car honk outside, waiting impatiently in my driveway.
Don't go. Don't leave. Don't go with him. Don't go.
My heart kept telling me over and over that I shouldn't leave my room. It told me to stay tucked away in my room.
"Shut up," I whispered to it, "I have to leave." I did just as I said. I left my room, gave a quick, loose hug to my mom and walked out the door. The spring air was refreshing on my face, chilly but not cold enough to wear a coat.
"Hey, babe," Matt greeted me, immediately clasping my hand with his. He kissed me sloppily again and gripped the wheel with one hand. The taste was back again, "What do you want to do tonight?" He started rattling off ideas, something I wasn't paying attention to.
"I don't care," I replied simply, my eyes fixed ahead of me. Matt bit the side of his cheek, looking offended again. He growled under his breath.
"We'll see when we get back," He said, his voice having this sharp edge to it. Matt babbled on about some game I've never played before all the way there. Once we reached his house, my heart screamed again.
Go home. Don't go in.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I licked my lips nervously as Matt grabbed on to my hand again. No other cars were in the driveway except Matt's little red one. My stomach flipped over inside of me, anxiety bubbling up inside of it. We reached the inside, Matt dragging me up to his room. He sat down on his bed, pulling me down with him.
"What do you want to do?" He winked, never letting go of my hand. I tried to pull it away, but he held on to it tighter.
"Let go," I whispered, pulling further away. Matt crumpled his eyebrows into that weird expression he always did when I did something he didn't like.
"What? You don't want to hold my hand?" He asked, that edge back in his smooth tone. I shook my head, tugging harder on my hand, "Maybe I can change your mind." Matt said, leaning in. He latched on to my lips with his, forcefully, almost angrily. He darted his tongue around my mouth again, shoving mine around. He moved over, keeping me pinned down with his shoulder. I kept my eyes open, watching his face. His forehead was wrinkled, eyebrows relaxed. I tried to push him off of me. I didn't want to have sex with him. Usually, I wouldn't have minded, but I didn't like Matt that way. He seemed like a mean cousin, not a boyfriend, "Come on, babe." He whispered, his breath quick and panting. He didn't wait for my response before he started kissing me again, his hand finding my thigh. He was too heavy for me to shove off, no matter how hard I pushed.
"I don't want to have sex with you," I whimpered between his salty kisses. He lifted up his head, still keeping me pinned down. He looked down at me, his eyes cold.
"Why not?" He asked, too harsh for me to like. I bit my lip, struggling against his grasp. I
gave up, too tired to fight.
"I don't think I really like you. I should leave," I whispered, watching Matt's face warp in confusion.
"You're not going anywhere. You're going to like me," Matt hissed, leaving slobbery kisses down my neck. It felt disgusting, like that time San's dog wouldn't stop licking me, drool dribbling out of his mouth.
"Matt, get off of me," I said sternly, pushing his shoulders with all of my arm strength. Matt looked down at me, shaking his head.
"Are you deaf or are you just stupid? You're not going anywhere," He repeated, his eyes darting around my face. Tears rushed to my eyes, a few of them escaping out of the corners.
"I'm not stupid!" I defended, sniffling, "Now, get off of me. You're scaring me." I shoved Matt, trying to get him off of me. I knew I shouldn't have went with him.
"Don't tell me what to do," He spat, sounding like a little kid. Using all of the power I had, I kicked Matt's shin, making him grunt in pain. His hands flew to the offending spot, the pressure of his shoulders lightening. I slipped out of my place, running out of his room. Matt followed me, catching up with me. I reached the stairs, trying to escape Matt's house. Matt grabbed on to my wrist at the top of the stairs, holding me back. I whimpered, his grip too tight on my arm. A desperate fear washed over me, building up in my stomach.
"Please, let go," I said, shaky sobs from deep in my chest spilling out. Matt smirked. I tried to shove his hand away with a free one, digging my fingernails into his skin. Matt laughed.
"You think you're tough, don't you? You think you can hurt me and get away with it?" He laughed breathily at the end of his questions sarcastically, watching me wince at his words, "You've got another thing coming." Shifting his hands to my shoulders, he pushed as hard as he could, sending me flying down the stairs. I screeched in the silent air, deathly afraid. The fear consumed me as I whacked my head against the stairs, trying to stop myself with my free hands.
Slam. Whack. Slam.
My back slid down a few of the stairs, landing head-first on the bottom. I crawled helplessly away from the stairs, collapsing in front of them. I was sobbing hopelessly, curling myself into a ball. The coarse carpet scratched my arms and legs, my head pounding. I could feel myself shaking, the pain eating me alive. Blood dripped out of my nostrils, leaving a trail behind me. I didn't know what I did to deserve this, but Matt was a monster. An evil, ugly monster. I glanced back up the stairs, my right eye nearly swollen shut. Matt's face was horrified. Why? Shouldn't he have been happy? Shouldn't have he been excited he got what he wanted? He jogged down the stairs to meet me at the bottom. I covered my head with my arms, protecting my face from further damage. Matt grabbed on to my arms, pulling me up. I winced, breathing quickly. My heart must have been beating at one million miles per hour, begging to escape my chest. He looked into my eyes for a split second before pulling me into a hug. I started to panic, screaming in his ears. I didn't know what else to do but scream.
"Stop screaming," He said gently, "You're okay. Trust me, B. This will never happen again. Just, don't tell anyone. Tell everyone you fell. You fell. I didn't push you. It will never happen again." He whispered, my heart beat traveling faster and faster. I was afraid for my life, wincing away.
"Okay," I sobbed, collapsing back to the ground. He walked away, going into the kitchen for something. I rolled back up into a ball. He handed me and ice pack, reaching out his hand. I put the ice pack next to me, not even setting it on top of me.
"Clean yourself up and I'll drive you home." He demanded, still gentle. I did what he said, too afraid to disobey him. I ran up to the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I was pretty banged up, both nostrils bleeding endlessly, my right eye black and blue already. My wrist was covered in fingerprints from where Matt squeezed too hard. I lifted up my shirt, using a hand mirror to look at my back. Bruises trailed across it from hitting against the hard, wooden stairs. I spit in the sink, trying to wash the nasty taste of Matt's mouth out of mine. I wiped the blood off of my face, leaning my head back to stop the nosebleed. With one last glance, I crept out of the bathroom, walking carefully back down the stairs, I didn't even give Matt a passing glance before I headed out the door, nearly afraid to step into his car.
What if he killed me?
The words replayed in my head, unforgiving and angry.
What if he does this again?
What if he never stops?
I bit my lip, choking back the dry, breathy sobs. Hot tears stumbled down my cheeks, sitting silently in Matt's car. He followed me outside, taking his place in the driver's seat.
"It'll never happen again," He repeated the entire ride, "Tell everyone you fell." I didn't want to, but I had to. I didn't want to be pushed again. I didn't want to live in fear. I wanted San. I just wanted to see S. I wanted her to tell me everything was going to be okay and nothing was going to happen to me as long as she was around. We reached my house, barely waiting until the car stopped to unbuckle my seat belt and hop out of the car. Matt tried to say goodbye, but I ran off before he could choke the words out. I composed myself as I walked into my house.
"Hey, Britt! How was your date?" My mom asked me curiously and friendly. I avoided looking at her, keeping my back turned.
"It was great," I lied, "Matt and I played Twister."
Nice lie. Keep lying.
I avoided looking at anyone as I walked back to my room, falling down on the bed. I tucked my weary legs under my arms, hiding away from myself. I tried to think of a plan to get out of Matt's slimy grip, but I couldn't think of anything without getting hurt. I tried to sleep, my tired eyes refusing to close. I eventually fell in and out of sleep, nightmares plaguing my rest. I kept seeing Matt's smirk right before he pushed me, his hand clutching my wrist.
The next day, I wore the long sleeved shirt under my Cheerios uniform, using make-up to cover the majority of my black eye. It was more swollen today. I could barely see out of it. I skipped breakfast, just so my mom wouldn't have to see my face. I sure saw my face, staring at myself in the mirror again.
You're hideous. You did this to yourself. It's all your fault, Brittany. Why didn't you just have sex with him? Why didn't you obey? You pushed yourself down the stairs. Matt didn't push you. You ruined it all. All because you want Mike. How self-centered. You did this all because of a boy. You hurt yourself because of a boy.
My mind punished itself, my face straight and broken.
"Hey, baby," Matt greeted me at school, closing me in with his arms in front of a locker. His cologne was too strong, making me wrinkle my nose, as well as look away from him. I tried to wince away before he kissed me, "Stand normal. You're going to make a scene."
"Okay," I whimpered, standing up straight. The fear crushed me further, pressing me against the lockers, "Can you just let me out?" I asked quietly, wishing to disappear. Matt scoffed, walking away from me.
Fear was my only friend that night when he shoved me into the lockers when I wouldn't kiss him after Glee Club. No one saw, just like before.
The next few days were the same. Matt shoved, kicked, even slapped me. My dreams were haunted with him, replaying the scenes from the days passing.
"Tell me you love me," Matt hissed in my ear, laying uninvitedly on my bed. He just showed up at my house randomly, telling my mom I invited him. I didn't say anything, "I said, tell me you love me, bitch." He spat quietly.
"I l-love you," I whispered, defeated. It was crap. I didn't mean anything.
"Mean it," He barked, digging his nails into my sides. I started crying again, fear nibbling away at my heart. I knew not to scream or call for help. I knew not to shove him away. I knew to let him do whatever he wanted to do, just to lessen the pain. I couldn't say anything. I just lay there, my eyes plastered shut. I waited for the backfire, for the familiar slap in the face. For the familiar stinging of his hand on my face. Suddenly, it came, harder than usual. It ended the same, "Don't tell anyone. It will never happen again. I love you, baby."
I sat up in my bed, paralyzed with anxiety. I couldn't pay attention to anything. I stopped eating, my complexion was flushed, I didn't have any energy to do anything. Ms. Sylvester applauded me, liking my loss of weight. Every day, I would do the same thing: punish myself in front of the mirror. I would insult myself until I would be so panicked, sometimes I would throw up. I considered it training. Training not to cry in the real situations.
You bitch. You're fat, lose weight. You're ugly, wear more make-up. You whore. You slut. Everyone hates you, that's why you have to stay with him. He tells you. No one likes you. Stay away from everyone.
I did just that. Everything was worse if I talked to anyone. Everything was worse if I said anything.
One day, after Cheerios practice, San came up to me for the first time in 2 weeks.
"B?" She asked, searching for eye contact. I didn't look her in the eye. I didn't look anyone in the eye. I was too afraid to see what I saw in Matt's. That stinging evil. Everyone left the field, leaving me and San in the grass.
"S," I started sobbing, collapsing in her arms. She lowered me gently to a sitting position, holding me close. She let me cry, rubbing my sore shoulders. They were sore from being pushed against lockers and things like that, sore from being so tired. Santana's eyes locked with Mike's as he ran over, joining Santana.
"What the hell happened here?" Mike whispered to Santana, taking one of my hands, "B, what's going on?" I shrugged away from Mike. If Matt was watching, everything would be
far worse than before. My heart stung, wanting to hold Mike's hand more than ever.
"Babe, I think you should go," Santana said, nodding her head toward the school. Mike obliged, kissing Santana lightly. He jogged away, leaving us on the field.
"He's going to kill me," I whimpered, hugging Santana as tight as I could. Santana sucked in a quick breath, trying to catch my eyes again, "He's going to kill me." Santana held me closer, rubbing my back. Her hands were warm and homely, actually meaning something.
"B, tell me what's going on," Santana said, "B, please." San begged, hanging on to me.
"I can't, S. He's going to kill me," I whined, already saying too much. I was really going to get it after practice for being late. Santana started to sob, her tears soaking into my uniform. I was suddenly aware of everything I was doing wrong as I broke down in front of Santana.
"B, listen to me. Is Matt hitting you?" She asked. My breath quickened, my heart rate skyrocketing, "Oh, my god." Santana couldn't say anything more, "B, come with me." She grabbed on to my hand, trying to help me up.
"I can't," I whimpered, "I can't go, San. I have to stay with him. Nothing is going to help. Everything's worse. I'm stuck here forever. He'll sneak into my house at night like he does sometimes. I'm scared, San. I can't go anywhere." I begged her, pleading to not tell anyone. Santana shook her head.
"There's no way I'm letting you stay with him. I need to make a few phone calls, B. Just stay here, okay?" Santana said, running back into the building. I had to leave. I was going to be caught. I knew it was all over when I saw a door open on the other side of the field. It was Matt.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He screamed as he sprinted toward me, "DID YOU TELL HER?" He raged, dragging me up from the ground, "YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!" I sputtered apologies, sobbing endlessly as my feet dragged across the field. I stumbled to keep up with him, trying not to make the pressure worse on my wrists. Matt pulled me all the way out to the parking lot, literally throwing me into the back seat of his car. I slammed my head against the window on the side, the back of my head throbbing. I punched the back window, not even caring what happened to me now. The pain was too much at this point. 3 weeks was too much to deal with it. It was useless fighting, but I had to break free. I had to get out.
"SAN!" I screeched as Matt drove out of the parking lot.
"YOU LITTLE BITCH! DO YOU KNOW WHAT COULD HAPPEN TO ME NOW? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TROUBLE WE COULD GET IN?" Matt screamed, growling and groaning in between questions.
"You said it would never happen again," I cried, quiet and weak.
"Yeah, and you said you wouldn't tell anyone," He scoffed, laughing sarcastically. I didn't tell her. She knew. It was no use saying it as we pulled into Matt's vacant driveway. The sun was already starting to set after staying at the school late for practice, "I get that that whore, Santana, is like your little lesbian girlfriend, but I told you not to tell ANYONE. That includes that slut. You should know by now that what I say GOES." Matt screamed, his words pounding in my ears. I already knew. He shoved me inside, pushing me on to the couch. I didn't even try to fight back as he slapped me as hard as he could, 2 times on each side of my face. The tears were spilling faster, dripping down my face.
Don't fight. Don't fight back. He'll hit you harder. Don't scream. Bite your lip. You won't scream that way. You mean nothing. Just take it.
I fell on to the floor, hitting my nose on the coffee table. The blood started to seep out, staining my uniform. That made 3 stained Cheerios uniforms. He shoved the table out of the way to get a clear shot to me. He kicked me in the stomach with the toe of his feet. I nearly threw up, choking on the bile that came to my mouth. He walked away to get something.
He's going to kill you. Run.
I shouldn't have listened to my instinct then, but I scooped myself up, sprinting up the stairs.
"GET BACK HERE," Matt screamed, his voice echoing through the whole house. I locked the bathroom door, pressing my back against the door. The fear was killing me. I was drowning in my own fear, glancing at the window across the room. I took a chance, attempting to open the window and shimmy out. Just as I slipped into the cool air, Matt forced his way into the bathroom, nearly breaking the door off of the hinges. I was holding on to the side of the house, trying to balance on the side roof. Matt climbed out after me, looking down on me with a smile spread across his face, "You're asking for it, aren't you?" He held on to my arm, slapping the side of my face with his free hand. It stung more in the cooler air. His hand was bloody, the blood from my nose staining his hand. I struggled against his grip again, just like the first time. I thrashed and screamed until his hand slipped, letting me go. That's when my feet slipped out from under me, leaving me dangling by my fingers off of the roof. I couldn't hold on much longer, listening to Matt's demands echoing in my ears. That's why I stopped caring. That's why I let go. That's why I let myself make the 2 story drop, falling, falling, and falling. That's why I landed, feeling my neck snap under me. That's why I didn't even scream when my mouth filled with blood, spilling out of the sides of my mouth. That's why I didn't thrash and cry when I could feel myself slipping away, the world disappearing like grains of sand...
You're finally gone. Don't cry. You're gone. As for him, he's going to say he transferred. No one will know the story but Santana, who is too afraid to tell a soul. No one knows where he is. He didn't come to your funeral. He didn't come to anything. He said you killed yourself, when everyone knows that's not true. You didn't want to die, did you? Everything's okay now. You're at home. Don't worry anymore. He'll leave you alone now, 're gone.
You're gone.
Okay, so this may be continued, i don't know.
bye, penguins.