My first House of Anubis story! It's called The Ignored. It's basically a season-one rewrite from the point of view of a mute resident. This has been in my mind for ages, so here we go with the prologue.

Maybe I'm not perfect. I mean, I know I'm a fuck up. As my parents constantly reminded me, I am a mistake. I was never meant to be born. I'm like that Matilda kid in that book.

Only I never got my happy ending. My parents sent me off to boarding school. Sure, you might consider that a happy ending, but it's not.

I'm a loner. No one talks to me. I spend hours alone in my bedroom, slowly wasting away. I'm slowly destroying myself in there, and no one seems to give a fuck. All I ever do is sit in my bedroom in the dark and sleep.

I sleep because it's the only time I don't have to feel. I don't have to feel so alone. I don't have to feel useless. I don't have to feel like no one cares.

But then I wake up. I wake up, and I realize that no one does care. I realize that they're all relieved that I'm never around. I realize that I am alone, and probably will be for life.

I don't cry, but sometimes I want to. Sometimes I just want to sit in a room alone and cry. Just cry because I don't feel like I'm good enough. Just cry because no one gives a flying fuck about me. Just cry because I know that I'm going to die alone.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like being one of those pretty girls that all the boys want. What's it like to have people want to be around you? What's it like being loved?

They always say that the grass is greener on the other side, and, truth be told, it is. It's much greener where people give a fuck and where they want to be around you. It's brown and yellow where I am. I am stuck alone in one of those old, ratty abandoned lots in the ghetto, while, just over that too-tall fence, lies a green pasture.

I mean, sure, you might say it's hard being popular. You might say that I have it good, being ignored. But I still wonder what it's like when people give a flying fuck. I wonder how different is.

I sit at the table for breakfast and dinner while my housemates poke fun at me. They don't realize that it fucking hurts. It's like they know I'm already so close to the edge and that every poke just inches me closer towards it.

They want me to fall over the edge.

Unlike Esme in Twilight, I won't have a Carlisle there to save me and turn me into a vampire. I'll just plummet down and down until there's no more air left. All that's left is the rock hard ground.

I won't have someone sitting on the cliff edge waiting for me so they can save me. There won't be anyone waiting there to say, "Come on, we'll have some tea at my house and have a little chat." There's no one there for me, especially when I need it most.

I'll be alone, and the only thing stopping me from jumping is the fact that some poor hikers or someone would find my cold, lifeless body and be scarred for life. I don't want to ruin their lives when I can just suffer in silence.

Approaching the touchy subject of suicide, I know you're about to call 211 on me so I can go to a mental hospital to "get better". Well, newsflash, buddy, I'm not getting better. There's really nothing I can do to get better. I've tried so hard to be normal. I wanted to be normal.

In my delusional mind, I was. I was as normal as someone could be. But, in reality, I was depressed. I was suicidal. Hell, I am suicidal, but I'd never go through with it.

I'm too pussy.

Wow, that was depressing…I apologize. Well, review?