His Rejection Killed (ON HOLD)

Chapter Five.

this chapter goes to the fact I'm phoneless rn, so I NEED something to do...
also I just want to thank everyone who has waited for this chapter, I know I'm a slow updater but I do hope to finish this book by next year

& is this "Esther"? If you find a better "Esther" let me know! This is how I picture Esther expect she looks younger, like a 17 year old lol

Ugh I hate this chapter but I just really want to update. Will be edited for sure later.

AND I entered #wattys2015 so please support me!

Hope you like it!

Not edited.
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      My short lived courage evaporated the moment I stepped foot in the wretched place I classify as school. How could I be so naïve to think things were going to change; that things were going to get better. It never does, I didn't even know what normal felt like anymore. From the moment I woke up to the moment I cried myself to sleep I questioned my part in society; truth be told I wasn't needed. And that's what hurts the most, knowing without me life would go on the same, everyone would move on like I was never here.

I''m not good enough.

Not good enough to be loved; and certainly not good enough to live.

Entering the nearest bathroom I leaned against the sink trying to control my breathing; and in my moment of calm I heard it. It wasn't laughter, it wasn't mocking, or angry, it was a heart-breaking sob. Slowly making my way towards the end of the stall I pushed it open to reveal a crying girl; mascara stained her cheeks concealing her beauty, and exposing her vulnerability. But I couldn't pull my eyes away, I couldn't walk away pretending I didn't see a broken shell; so I just stared.

Hearing the creaking sound of the stall opening wider the girl tensed; I had uncovered her from her hiding place, her comfort "blanket". And in a twisted way I was happy. Not because I had the intention of helping her, or even comforting her, I was happy because to me I finally wasn't alone. I wasn't the only broken, empty shell; this girl, she understood what pain felt like, her face showed it all, showed that like me she didn't belong here.

"Why do they hate me?" This strange pink haired girl weeped as she throw herself into me. But I didn't mind; I knew exactly how she felt.

"Am I so awful? Am I an abomination?" She whimpered into my shoulder.

"No."  I paused eyed her carefully.

"Are you okay?" The moment the words slipped out of my mouth I regretted it; because I knew this girl wasn't okay, I knew that no matter what I say she won't be okay.

"Why do people ask if you're okay, when they know you're not?" she asked. And maybe it was the broken sound of her voice, or maybe it was the unmistakable way her face deformed itself into a scrunchy bunch awaiting to release its sorrowful sob; but I hugged her. This kind gesture was just that, a gesture, and it wouldn't fix the damage. Her tears weren't going to flow back into her, and she was certainly never going to be how she was thirty minutes ago; because somewhere along with her tears she cried away part of her soul.