"Especially the way she has a crush on guys that she won't even GET."
That one hurt the most. Stupid Olive; I hate her.
I ran away, trying to get to the girl's bathroom before anyone could catch me. I began crying, and I ran past my crush. That's it.
Why does the bathroom have to be so far away?
I gripped my pocket as I ran into the bathroom. There's something in there that would solve my problems if I pushed in hard enough.
I closed the bathroom door and locked it. I sat down, scrunched down my right knee-high sock, and pulled out my knife. My tears burned my face, and I pressed the knife against my leg.
Two diagonal lines and a slash connecting the two… space.
The knife was already bloody, but it didn't matter. No one cared.
One vertical line, connecting with one horizontal line… space.
No one knew. Or cared. Or even realized how I felt when they teased me.
An oval followed the last cut… space.
It hurt like hell, but no one would know that I hurt like hell.
Two vertical lines, connecting with one diagonal line in the middle… space.
My blood was circling around me in a puddle.
One vertical line with three horizontal lines connecting to it… done.
I looked down with blurry eyes at the bloody mess. The word I cut mocked me.
"A…L…O…N…E…"
I grabbed my knife again and scraped my hand against the blade accidently. I grabbed the handle and scraped the blade up my arm.
My hands, arms, legs, and the knife were all bloody. All around me, there was a little pool of blood. I cried into my hands, getting blood on my face. But who would care anyway? I gripped my knife, lifted up my shirt, and cut my side until someone knocked.
I heard "Alahomora", and the lock unlocked.
I dropped my knife, and the stranger came in. I was expecting it to be Olive, or something, but it wasn't. It was my crush. I sat down, and Tom Riddle looked at me.
He stared at the knife on the bathroom floor, then at my legs, hands, arms, and then my bloody face.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"I heard you crying, and I came – why are you all… bloody?" He walked over to me and sat down next to me, gripping my leg and lifting it up, revealing the word cut across it. He stared at it.
"Why, Myrtle?" I showed him my arms, hip, and wrists. He repeated his question over and he hugged me.
"Because I'm alone. No one cares! No one gives a damn! I'm just that girl who everyone can make fun of, and guess what? That girl has feelings, but no one knows that! She has a heart!" I sobbed into his robes.
"I know you do…" He showed me his wrists. They were cut, too, all up the veins.
"Why'd you do that? Everyone loves you; no one makes fun of you! You're perfect, you are so different than m—"
"Maybe… but that doesn't mean I don't have problems…"
"Like what?" He was still hugging me, and he said, "You have a family to go home to, even if they are Muggles. My mum died after I was born and my stupid, filthy Muggle father ran like a cowa—"
I kissed him, just so he would stop fingering the knife. I saw the look in his eyes – he wanted to kill.
I had to stop him somehow.
I just wished he could've stopped me... But it's too late.