These Classrooms Talk

VIII

Weeks pass.
Students are hurt. Teachers are told. Principle is called. Parents are called.
Throughout the weeks, I haven't had the mind frame to even look at the teachers the same way I used to. As people that would own me.
Sean has gone back to treating me how he treats everyone else.
Apparently, the whole 'nice' thing was a ruse to get me to sleep with him so he could tell Briar.
What do they have against me? Emily has tried to conspiracize that they wanted to hurt Emily through hurting me, but they're teenagers. They're not smart enough to hatch a plan like that.
I stopped going to comittee meetings. I can't stand to be in the same room as Briar.
Fortunately, I'm in Extension, the highest classes, and she's in Direct Instruction. Let's just say that that is lower than Elementary School standards.
Me and Emily are on better terms, now that I know what's going on with her.
She gets in trouble with Mom sometimes, but I stick up for her.
I give Mom the eyes and she doesn't question it. The night her and Dad got back from date night, I told them there was some very serious shit going on with Emily, and they had to be careful, especially Dad, around her. I don't think Dad understood but Mom can definitely infer very well. I haven't said anything, though. I just told Mom that it wasn't my place to say.
Moms been fucking hard on me. I don't blame her. She is super mad that she keeps getting calls from the school to come pick me up due to 'behavioural issues'.
The thing about the party hasn't died down, and I'm worried it never will.
I haven't used the drugs yet, so that's a start. I've promised myself to only use them if I really can't deal anymore.
Boys at school are looking
The...death thing hasn't died down either.
Each passing day is harder and harder and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Maybe I shouldn't be alive.
Normal girls shouldn't go through this. I am not normal. I never will be.

~

Science. Mr Smith.
His deep, husky voice fills the room.
"Thus, we cannot change the amount of energy in the universe, we can only change its cause."
The bell goes. Everyone starts packing to leave.
"Class dismissed," Mr Smith says, "Miss Anderson, may you please stay back."
I

'm at the door when I realise he's talking to me.
I walk back to my desk.
"Kendall," Mr Smith says, his voice soothing, "why don't you tell us?"
I'm assuming that by 'us' he means the collective teachers.
"Tell yous what?"
"About the party." He states it clearly. He knows it is a fact. But how does he know in the first place? "Teachers are very good at listening. And the students block us out most of the time so they don't notice us eavesdropping."
"What do you know?" I ask.
"You, Sean, Drew. Didn't go all the way but it went pretty far." He says.
"Why don't you guys do something about it?" I shout.
"We can't." He says calmly, "not unless you come to us. Here."
He hands me a note. With a phone number?
"Call me," he says, "you can come round to my house. As a friend. That's all."
"Fuck you." I say and run out of the class.

~

I can't tell Emily. She's got enough shit going on. Mum and Dad are not and option. No one can help.
It's after school. Me and Emily are at the mall. I'm in the toilet.
I put a jacket sleeve in my mouth, to stop me from screaming.
I get out the razor blade from my bag.
I've never done this before.
But lots of normal girls have. When life gets too hard.
I scream. Before I've even done anything. I am such a pussy.
I don't actually want to die. When life gets hard, I might think it, but I'm still young, I haven't seen the world. I want to go to Alaska, Australia, Bali, Canada, Cook Islands, Greece, New York City, New Zealand, Scotland, Switzerland, and most of all - I want to grow old. Earn enough money to be a philanthropist.
That's not why I'm doing this. Not to die. I'm doing this to live. To deal with my pain easily and quickly.
A

nd subtly.
No one will ever see my thigh. I'm going to be celibice.
I press the razor firmly against my skin. I drag it across.
It leaves a scratch. Not good enough.
I press harder, and I bite the sleeve to stop from screaming.
It hurts! But I have to be trong. Normal girls would do this easy - no problem. Gotta be normal.
I want to die!
I don't know what's going on in my head. Life is like that. You never know what is happening. Do you want to die? Ew, no. Wait, yes!
That is how crazy my life is. I hate it.
I want to die.
I press until I draw blood.
I smile.
The razor drags across my skin, creating a large scar. Blood runs down my leg and drips onto the floor.
I pick up the razor and go back to the top, and draw more blood.
Once again, I slide it down my thigh. It hurts like a motherfucker but I hold it together.
I start another cut.
Slut.
Another cut.
Whore.
Another cut. All I can hear is the names. The cruelty of teenagers.
She told Sean she wants him to own her, how creepy.
Another cut.
No, sbe said she wants him to buy her. She wants to be his slave.
Another cut.
I stop.
The floor is covered in a pool of blood.
I use toilet paper to apply pressure to my thigh, and it eventually scabs.
Then I use toilet paper to soak up the blood on the floor.
I put it all in the toilet bowl, then flush it down the drain.
Fuck my life.