(Warning! Please be advised, mentions of extreme bullying and suicide! If this is not for you then please skip to the next chapter)
I know no one likes public speaking, but try doing it with a stutter. It's a nightmare come alive. Being forced to stand up before the whole class. To talk as if you're a car slowly crawling along the street at one mile an hour, with your insides constantly threatening to explode and unleash the vomit from inside from sheer embarrassment. From the students staring at me, I hear muttered nicknames and insults. Encouraging me to fail with such classics as, "Hurry up, Dildo." "While we're young." "You think she's crapped herself yet?"
If my body wasn't so tense, I very well might have. Instead I was stood with trembling knees at the front of the class, clinging to my crumpled-up papers like a life preserver. God how I wished the teacher would just let me sit down. Couldn't he see how much I was suffering, how petrified I was, so much so I couldn't even get out the first word. I'd tried to explain to the old bastard multiple times that I couldn't do public speaking, but he wouldn't have it. He just kept insisting that it was a necessary part of life and that it was better to get used to it now, along with my peers. But my peers hated me. My peers were the ones that named me 'Dildo Dylan' after I spent a whole two minutes trying to get my name out once. God how I hated them all.
I didn't even have one single friend. The only time anyone even bothered to look my way was when they were insulting me or when I was making a fool of myself in front of the class for the whole world to see. The only person I had was my sister, Erica. She had just as much problems as me though. She suffered from epileptic fits and constantly refused to take her meds, no matter how many times me and our parents tried to tell her it was for her own good. She hated them, because they made her fat. At least she had a medicine, something to keep the symptoms at bay. I was forever doomed to be stuck with my stutter.
My parents had paid a lot of money originally to speech therapists when it became clear I had a problem, but nothing they did ever worked. None of the exercises, none of the sessions. It had all been for nothing. And I'd gone through my entire school career being teased for it, just as Erica had for her epilepsy.
I sometimes wished we'd been born boys. Boys could fight in high school, and then I would have been able to defend Erica. But as a girl, fighting was frowned upon by everyone, even if they didn't say it. Girls were smarter anyway, using their words and minds to hurt you rather than their fists. But I wasn't as smart as the girls like Lydia Martin, able to twist her words as good as any knife in my chest. It was her kind that had made me come close to ending it all at one point. I hadn't though. I couldn't leave Erica alone. All we had was each other.
We did everything together. Helped each other with homework, fantasied over our ideal crushes. Talked about how one day things would be better, how we'd be magically cured, and everything would change. We'd become powerful, respected and would get vengeance on everyone that wronged us. Life had taken so much from us, breaking us down piece by piece before we'd even had a chance to grow. We deserved a chance. And I'd vowed so many times if I ever got it, I'd take it. Take it along with Erica and change our lives for ever. Sadly, I knew it was a pipe dream.
We lived in the real world. Dreams didn't come true. It wasn't like one of her favourite fantasy books, were one moment could change everything. Or when the girl woke up to discover she was actually a princess all along. The real world sucked; the real world was what every other magical world would refer to as hell. I hated it, I hated everything about it with the exception of my sister. There was nothing for me and when I wasn't with Erica I felt so alone. I sometimes wondered how I made it a whole year without her in my life, without that cute little timid smile to get me through the day. I could really use that smile right about now.
After ten minutes of stumbling over my words like an idiot, being brought to tears as I whimpered on – then being told to speak up because no one, including the teacher, could hear me – I finally finished. I was permitted to sit down with my final grad being an F just because I couldn't tell the class why I deserved better. I didn't care. I ran back to my seat, unfortunately placed in the middle of the room. I shielded myself from my peers, lowering my head to the table before covering it with my arms, doing my best to block out the snickering and teasing taunts that came from all around. I barely held it together until the end of class when I then bolted for the bathroom, locking myself in a cubical and letting it out. No matter how many times I wiped away the tears they just kept coming.
Every few minutes someone would walk in and I'd have to keep it down, quietly whimpering as tears continued to flow out until they left. Then it was back to crying by myself. I could have texted Erica for comfort, asked her to keep me company, but I didn't like her seeing me like this. I was her rock in many ways, and I couldn't afford to cry in front of her more than I already did.
When I finally finished crying and got the strength to leave the restroom, it was last period and I'd missed all of lunch. I couldn't have cared less. It wasn't as if the crappy school food would have helped me in anyway, just add to the weight I was slowly starting to put on. I'd always meant to burn it off at the gym but that would mean leaving my house. The only time I ever did that was to go to school or if my parents were dragging me and Erica out somewhere.
I arrived at the classroom and the teacher handed me a slip of paper for being later, a warning I'd received a hundred times before. Even the teachers barely remembered my name. I sat down quietly, the usual murmurs passing through the class like a gentle wave moving up the beach. It was a dull class, so much so I didn't even bother to take out my books. And then the class was over. The bell rang, and I left, picking up the pace when I heard a group of the popular crowd calling taunts after me. I tightened my hold on my bag strap, fingers digging into my palm like claws. It got so bad I actually thought I felt blood dripping from my hand at one point – it turned out it was only sweat.
When I got outside, I unlocked the car and got in, slamming the door as to keep up my anger. Better angry than sad. I waited a few minutes until Erica finally joined me, dressed in day old cloths she hadn't bothered to throw out with her wiry hair tied back in a ponytail. I would never judge her though – I saw the beautiful girl beneath all that. The sweet little sister I'd always had and loved. Not that my outside was any better either. My slightly darker blonde hair was straight and greasy looking, which matched my thick eyebrows, and my blue eyes which had lost their shine long ago, now pale and cold after all the heart-breaking years. And as for my freckles, they looked more like dried up spots that clung to my face. Basically, we looked like we never showered – another thing we were both constantly teased about.
"H-How y-y-you do-doin-doing?" I asked Erica with a brave smile, the same way I always did. The way a big sister should. I could never understand all these dramas in books and TV series that had sisters arguing over such trivial things. Then again, those sisters had other reasons to go on. All me and Erica had was each other.
"Okay, I guess," Erica replied with the usual dismissive, and quiet, shrug. I knew it was her way of getting over whatever had happened to her that day. People said talking about it made you feel better, that didn't work for Erica or me. We only talked about the bullying months later, during our holidays so that it didn't stay bottled up inside. It wasn't like we could do anything about it anyway. When the entire student body are the ones bullying you and ignoring you what are the school supposed to do about it?
I gave my sister another soft smile before starting up the car and driving us home. That night we did what we always did. We did our homework, we ate our dinner, went into the second living room to watch a movie on our own and then went to bed. A rut we'd both fallen into. But with no social life, what else was there to do. Mom was constantly having goes at us about it, saying we should get out more. Easy for her to say, she was full of confidence, a trait that had sadly skipped both me and Erica. Dad was fine with us no matter what. He was too busy working to notice us unless we kicked up a fuss like we did when we were younger. When we reached high school, the time for tantrums ended and we were expected deal with our problems on our own. So, we did. We hid from them as much as we could before heading back into the hell that was school.
And that's my life in the short, an up to date version. I went through the daily routine of high school with not so sly comments being made about me every few minutes. I looked out for Erica as best I could and comforted her when she needed it afterwards. I put up with my nagging parents and then went back to repeating the process all over again. And every night I went to bed praying it would get better, and every morning my hope died a little more. I wasn't sure how much longer I could last, but I had to keep going for Erica if nothing else. God knew I wasn't doing it for me.
"Ni-Nig-Night, Er-Eri-Erica," I said as I opened the door of our shared bathroom into her room, popping my head through with a tired smile.
"Night, Dylan," she replied from beneath her bed sheets, her night light the only thing still on. I waved goodnight and then closed the door behind me, hearing the light click off as I walked into my own room. A few minutes later, I was dressed in my pjs and ready for bed. I climbed in and shut off the lights, too tired to read that night.
Me and Erica had stayed up late to watch the last part of the Lord of the Rings movies, a series we hadn't watched in a few years. It had brought back some nice memories of better times, before they reached the cruel world that was high school.
I let out a yawn and let my head rest against the soft pillow, curling up like I always did, keeping warm under the sheets. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, knowing it would be gone by the time I woke up and had to relive a similar day all over again.