Beep beep beep

Fuck you, alarm.

I groaned face first into my pillow, before rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and pressing silence on my clock.

Time to get dressed.

Nothing fancy; black skinny jeans, grey t-shirt, and a hoodie. Hair and teeth time.

I walked into the bathroom across from my room, and proceeded to brush my teeth. I brushed my blonde hair, then crimped it, and swept most of it to one side. After that, I went back into my room.

I slipped on my converse, grabbed my backpack, and last night's homework, and headed downstairs.

No one was down here. Mom, and dad probably already left for work. Oh well, it's not like they'd give me a kiss goodbye, and tell me to have a good day. I grabbed an apple, and left the house, locking the door behind me.

The bus stop is a 15 minute walk from my house, so I have plenty of time to eat my apple, and be done with it by the time I get there.

When I do get there, it's another 15 minute wait for the actual bus. And I hate the kids I have to wait with.

"Move it, loser." I hear a boy say, before I'm met with the ground. It hurt, but he could have done a lot worse. I decided to stand up, and take a few steps back from the rest of the kids, to avoid anymore conflict.

Once the bus got here, the group piled on, me being last. I sat alone, at the front of the bus. No one wanted to sit next to the bus driver, or me, so I always sat here. The whole bus ride was normal; the kids in the back were loud, and goofing off, the introverts were quiet, and most likely had headphones on, some caught up on the sleep they missed last night, or did homework they forgot. And of course people were throwing crumpled up papers at the back of my head, though I didn't turn around to confront whoever it was. I just looked out the window at the scenery passing me by.

After a few more stops, everyone was picked up, and we were almost at school. Not that it would be much of a relief. But the faster we get there, the faster the day will be over, and the faster I can get home, lock myself in my room, and wait for the nightmare of daily life to repeat itself.

I waited until everyone else was off the bus until I stood up and got off myself, trying to avoid being pushed. But a few kids still picked on me during their departure. One of the boys from the back even shoved my head so hard it hit the window. All I did was rub my head, and hope that would be the worst I get today.

I speed walked to my locker, wanting to get out of the halls as fast as possible. But, no such luck today.

"Why in such a rush, Amber?" A girl said. I knew who she was.

I didn't respond.

And for that, my locker got slammed in my face, thankfully just right after I took my hand out of it. I backed up, only then realizing that there was a large group of them surrounding me. A mix between both girls, and boys. All of my usual bullies. My eyes darted between all of them. It was just too much, I started shaking.

"Aww, look. The little emo whore is crying." Another girl said. I hadn't even realized I was crying. I looked down at the floor, ashamed.

"Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Another one yelled, and got up closer to me. But right when he was about to do something, the bell rang, signaling to everyone that if they weren't in class in the next 60 seconds, detention was inevitable. The boy in front of me gave me one last warning look. "Why don't you just end it with a blade you useless piece of shit?" And he walked away, the rest of his friends following him, all giving me glares.

"Stupid bitch." I heard one of the girls mutter.

I sat and cried for a few. I knew I was going to get detention, but I didn't care. I was so used to it. It took a while for me to stand up, and actually get the rest of the stuff from my locker before I actually walked through the class doors.

"Amber Kate, what a surprise." The teacher said, not surprised at all, before handing me my already written out detention slip for after school today. I went to sit down, but not before the teacher could humiliate me even more. "And next time, Amber, get your lazy butt out of bed on time. We wouldn't want you failing this class even more, now would we?" The whole class laughed. I was mortified. I just sat down, and got my stuff out to take notes.

Finally!

6 and half hours later, and hell was finally over!

Oh, wait, detention.

But that's ok, it was only an extra hour, and gave me a chance to do my homework, instead of procrastinating, and doing it right before bed like I usually do. Even though I have so much of it, I'll still have to do some before bed. At least I can get reading out of the way.

I walked into the class I had first period, which was the one I was late for. The teacher wasn't here yet. Guess I'm not the only one who was late today. I stopped, mid-walk, when I looked up, and realized who else had detention. 3 people. 3 of the people who were picking on me this morning. 1 boy, and 2 girls. I tried to act nonchalant. Like their presence didn't bother me, and sat down at a corner desk in the front, as far away from them as I could be.

Don't worry, they won't—they can't—hurt you. The teacher will be here any second, and they won't do anything in front of him.

With this mind set, I, as calmly as I could, took out my reading book. A few minutes later, the teacher walked in, holding a doughnut, and coffee, and didn't say anything. I didn't care what the others were doing, I was just trying to finish my work, and then I would focus on getting the hell out of here.

"Class dismissed." Finally.

I wanted to quickly put my book in my bag, and bolt out of there, but running wasn't allowed in school; I did not want another detention. So, I did everything at a normal pace. I walked out of the classroom, and it wasn't until I rounded a corner that I started to speed walk, which eventually turned into running. But I ran out of breath by the time I made it to the double doors. I hunched over, trying to catch my breath, before my face, and stomach were met, painfully, with the tiled floor; knocking all of the wind out of me. I tuned over, groaning, as I tried to see who's foot just pushed me.

When I saw who it was, my eyes widened in fear. All 3 of them were standing above me. It was obviously the boy who kicked me. He got up close to my face, and screamed "You fucking made me late for class, and got me detention, you son of a bitch!"

Before I could say anything, his fist met my face. I covered my face with my hands, and screamed in pain into them. It made me roll on my side. This gave one of the girls ample opportunity to kick me in the stomach, which made me take my hands off my face, and clutch my stomach. I was in a ball of pain. The final girl kicked me in the back.

They beat the shit out of me. It felt like an eternity before it was over. For a long while, I just laid there, in so much pain, I couldn't move. Or maybe I didn't want to move. It didn't matter, I didn't have a choice. I had to get home. At least there I can lay in my comfortable bed, instead of on hold, hard, tiled floors.

It took longer than it should've. I was hurting so bad. Yes, those kids had beat me up before. And yes, maybe this bad, or even worse. I don't know what it was, but this time just hurt the most.

Maybe it was what they said.

I shook my head as I recalled all the horrible names they called me, all of the horrible stuff they said to me.

"Kill yourself."

"Fucking die."

"No one cares about you."

"No one would miss you."

Stop it.

I don't want to remember what they said.

It felt like forever until I actually made it back to my house. I walked in, and it was strangely quiet.

Maybe they're upstairs doing work.

I, as quietly as I could, walked up the stairs to my room. I slid in quietly, and shut the door, still being carful not to make any noise.

Area cleared, mission accomplished.

I sighed in relief. I threw my backpack on my desk chair, and turned to my vanity.

First thing's first.

I sat down, and examined the damage in the mirror. I had bruises everywhere. Even on my throat. Which meant I probably had them on the back of my neck too. I decided to just put concealer everywhere. My, face, throat, and neck were completely covered after a little makeup magic.

There.

Now they'll never know.

It wasn't until about an hour later that I heard an engine pull up into my yard. I got up, still in a lot of pain. I'd thrown on more comfortable clothes since I got home. Some light grey baggy sweat pants, and a long sleeved teal shirt that gave me sweater paws. They covered me up perfectly.

I looked out my balcony window to see my parents car, and another car pulling up, and heading into the garage.

I didn't even know my parents weren't home. Work probably ran late. Wonder who's in the other car.

I shrugged it off, and returned to watching SpongeBob on my bed. Yes, I'm a 5 year old trapped inside a 16 year old's body.

But this didn't last long, as my mother was calling me downstairs, for some reason. I furrowed my eyebrows, but proceeded to turn the TV off with the remote, and get up. "Coming!" I yelled a response back.

I walked down the stairs, only now just slightly adjusting to the pain. I tired to look natural when I walked into my living room. There were my parents, in their usual work attire, along with another pair of people—another couple, I assume—wearing similar cloths, and a boy wearing a black t-shirt, some blue jeans, and an iron man hoodie with bright orange hair. I gave my parents a questioning stare.

"Amber, these are our colleagues from work, Jeff, Camila, and their son, David Moss." My mom said. I smiled at the family, giving them a little wave, as my eyes darted between all three of them.

"Nice to meet you." I said, still with a smile.

"Their house caught fire a few days ago, and they've been staying in a hotel since. We thought it would be just great to have them stay here until they find another living situation." My father said, answering my final question as to why the whole family was here.

"Amber, can you show David to one of the guest bedrooms? We're going to take Jeff and Camila up to theirs." My mother asked.

"Sure." I said, looking over, and smiling to the boy with the orange hair. David, hmm. "Follow me." I gestured for him to follow me up the stairs. I assume his parents are going in the double bed, so I took him to guest bedroom in my hallway, the one right after the bathroom. I did a 180 to face him. "And here you are sir." I used a slightly more proper voice, gaining a small laugh from him.

"Thanks." He simply replied, stepping in the room, but not laying the bed. Instead, he looked around, examining everything. I felt a bit awkward, so I decided to get myself out of there. I cleared my throat, gaining his attention.

"Well, the bathroom is just one door down, if you need it. I'll be in my room, so let me know if you need anything else." I smiled.

"Thanks." He simply replied again, and sat his bag down on the bed. I swung myself around, and decided I at least needed one more episode of SpongeBob before dinner.

"Amber, time for dinner!" My mother called from downstairs. I got up off my bed, once again turning SpongeBob off.

"Can you get David?" I heard my father ask, right as I was at the top of the stairs. I swiftly turned around, and headed to the room at the end of the hall. I knocked on the door. After a while, there was no answer. I knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.

"David, dinner is ready." I said through the door. Still no answer. Is he asleep? "I'm coming in." I said, just in case he wasn't. I cracked the door open, peaking in. He was sitting up on his bed, his laptop in his lap, and he had headphones on.

So that's why he couldn't hear.

I walked a little further into the room, to make my presence known. His head snapped up to me, and he pulled his headphones down to his neck. "Hey." He said, looking me up and down with furrowed eyebrows, asking with his face why I was here.

"H-hey, just, u-um, d-dinner is ready-y." I stuttered nervously, his gaze giving me anxiety. I quickly looked down, walking back out into the hallway, not waiting for an answer. I shut his door behind me, and made my way downstairs quickly. I walked into the dining room, and took a seat, right next to Jeff. Across from him was my mother, next to her was my father, and across from him was Camila.

"Did you tell David dinner was ready?" My mother asked.

"Yes ma'am." I replied, looking down at my plate. It wasn't until then that I realized I wouldn't be able to eat. My throat hurt like hell, and my stomach burned. I'd throw it right back up. It wasn't until a couple minutes later that David joined us.

"Son, where have you been?" Jeff asked David, slightly scolding him for being late.

"Sorry dad, just had to take care of something for school." David replied, sitting down across from me. His father didn't press.

That didn't look like school work to me.

But I didn't call him out on it.

Dinner went on, the adults talked, I played with my food, getting less, and less hungry the more I looked at it. I looked up to see David was doing relatively the same. Sure, he had eaten some, but it looked like he stopped and was playing with it just as I was.

It felt like another eternity before dinner was over, and I ran back up to my room as quickly as possible.

This whole day has felt like an eternity.

I walked over to my vanity, contemplating on wether or not to take the makeup off.

Nah, too risky.

I'll just put a new coat over it in the morning. And then I remembered.

Yes! Today was Friday! Tomorrow is Saturday! Woo-hoo! Weekend!

I let out a breath of relief and happiness, and plopped myself down on my bed. I was so tired, and I didn't have to finish my homework until Sunday.

Today has been a long day; I fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke up, panting, sweating, shaking, and crying.

Fuck, another nightmare.

I gripped my bedsheets, trying to calm down.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

And I repeated this until I was calmer.

I sat there for a little while, just looking into the blackness of my room. I looked over at my clock, reading 11:23.

I had dreamt about all the kids at school beating me up, calling me names, saying horrible stuff to me, telling me to kill myself. But, somehow, in my dream, it just felt so much more real.

I started to cry again. But the sound of my stomach rumbling interrupted me.

I guess I didn't eat dinner. I'll go down and get something quick.

I dried the tears from my eyes before stepping out into the hallway, and making my way down to the kitchen. Once there, I opened the fridge, and wondered what I should have. I didn't think it was a good idea to have anything solid just yet, so, I just poured myself a glass of orange juice. As I was putting it back, I heard my name.

"Amber!" My mom whisper-yelled my name, making me jump, and turn around to face her. She looked pissed. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Getting something to drink." I said innocently, also whispering.

"No, all you're doing is banging the fucking kitchen around! What are you trying to do, wake the whole house up?!" She whisper-screamed at me.

"What? No! Mom, I swear-" she cut me off.

"Why couldn't you eat at dinner, huh? No, cause your selfish, greedy ass doesn't appreciate a good meal! Or anything, for that matter!"

"Mom-" I started crying.

"You don't deserve anything you have. Not even the life you were given!" And with that, she slapped me. I tried not to make noise, to not cry out. I held my face, and watched my mom walk out of the room.

Once I heard her, and dad's bedroom door close, I ran upstairs to the bathroom, sat back, and leaned against the door. I curled up into a ball, and cried into my knees.

My mom doesn't love me. My own mother even wants me to end my life.

And everything that happened today just came crashing down all at once.

I was only human, I could only take so much.

They're right. They're all right.

I should just end it.

I mean, what am I living for?

I lifted my head, feeling empty.

I'm gonna do it.

I stood up, and opened the drawer that had my "shaving kit" in it. Oh how many secrets this zipper bag holds.

I opened it, and took out my blade.

I lined the blade up on my arm, and cut away. I cut deep, deeper than I ever have, all over my arms. The blood was everywhere. I couldn't stop crying.

This isn't enough.

I thought of what else I could do.

Pills.

I opened the medicine cabinet, and looked for my father's sleeping pills, but with no luck.

I could hang myself.

I don't have anything to do it with.

The bath tub was right there.

I turned to the bath, it was my only other option. The only one I could think of, anyway.

I started it up. I watched as the water rose higher, and higher. I couldn't wait.

It felt like—once again—another eternity for the bath to fill up. It still wasn't done.

And, all of the sudden, a pair of arms were around me. Ones that pulled me back, away from the tub, and out of the bathroom. Ones that kept my arms from letting me fight back. Ones that covered my mouth so I couldn't scream, even though I did anyway.

And before I knew it, I was gently sat down on a carpeted floor, and I was released from the persons' grasp. I immediately threw my bloody arms in front of my face for protection. I heard a door quietly click shut, and lock. I didn't look at the person, I closed my eyes. What if they were going to kill me?

They'd be doing me a favor.

That didn't make me uncover my face, though. Or open my eyes.

The person came in front of me, I tired to back away further, but my back was already against something wooden. The person, very gently, wrapped their hands around my arms, making me wince. Half from pain, half from fear.

I told my self to calm down.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

After a few minutes, I relaxed a little. The person must have felt this, because they started to take my arms away from face. I let them, and once my face was uncovered, I opened my eyes.

I did not expect this.

I was sitting on the carpeted floor of one of our guest bedrooms, my back was against the footboard of the bed, and in front of me, holding my arms in such a careful manner, was David Moss. Our house guest.

"I-I, u-u-uh..." I was trying to get words out of my mouth. But I didn't know what to say. I was so shocked. And I was even more shocked when he hugged me.

"Shh, you don't have to say anything." He said, assuring me. I hesitantly hugged him back.

He stopped me from killing myself.

This boy, who I've barely known, for a couple hours, stopped me from killing myself.

I cried. And I cried and I cried and I cried.

And he didn't seem to mind. He just held me the entire time, rubbing my back, and saying "Shh" over, and over again to calm me down. And eventually, it worked. Eventually, I unwrapped myself from him, and sat back on the footboard. I looked at him sadly, and he looked at me with a blank expression. I still didn't know what to say. I was speechless.

After a few minutes, he proceeded to get up, and walk out of the room. Where he was going, I didn't ask. But he came back almost immediately, holding a dark brown towel. He shut, and locked the door again, then came and sat back down in front of me. He started to wipe my face with the towel. My makeup must be ruined, he can probably see the bruises.

After my face, he moved the towel to my left arm, letting it soak up the blood. He was very careful with me. He treated me like I was made of thin glass. He barely hurt me at all. He moved to my right arm. It was silent the whole time, until he spoke.

"You know, you shouldn't do this." He said, not making eye contact with me, still cleaning my arms. I laughed.

"What, cut myself?" My voice was surprising clear after all the crying I had just done.

"No, kill yourself." He said, finally making eye contact. My face fell. I scoffed.

"Give me one reason. Give me one reason I shouldn't kill myself." I looked away, expecting us to go back into silence. But, instead, he laughed.

"I'll give you 10 reasons." I looked up to find him smiling at me. I furrowed my eyebrows together, curious.

"Shoot." I told him. He was still cleaning my arm, but he stopped. His smile left his face, and suddenly, he was serious again.

"Can I trust you to go back to bed, and wake up tomorrow morning?" He asked. I thought about.

He at least deserves that.

"I guess so." I replied. He checked my face, to see if I was lying. I was not. But, he was done with my arm. The only things left that had blood on them were my clothes, his clothes, and the bathroom. "I should probably change." I told him.

"Yeah, you should. I should too." He replied. He got up first, and offered me a hand. I hesitantly took it, and he pulled me up, no problem. Probably because I was so little. "See you tomorrow morning?" He asked.

"Yeah." I said, and slowly walked out of his room.

I walked into my room, and immediately took my bloody clothes off. I looked at them on the floor.

If I throw these in the wash, they'll know something is up.

For now, I threw them in an old bag, which I planned to either throw out, or burn later. But, for now, I threw on a new set of pjs, and hopped in bed.

I remembered David saying he could give me 10 reasons not to kill myself.

I didn't hear one.

Well, guess that's your answer, Amber.

I turned on my side.

You don't have a reason to live.