Drop Dead Gorgeous (YoungWritersPrize)

His Secret

I would like to dedicate this story to all the people out there who were bullied and to those who still are bullied. Guys, it gets better, trust me.^^.

Against bullying! 

I saw him...ripping her clothes off.

My throat seemed to constrict and the air around me was vanishing, causing my lungs to shrivel up as I almost refused to breathe, refused to move, refused to make any sound at all.

He had her pressed against the wall. His hand was slowly slipping up her naked thigh, revealing black-lace pantyhose. Soon his hand disappeared under her skirt.

She started breathing harshly through her mouth, I could hear her moaning as she grabbed and sunk her pointy red nails into his neck.

She raised her head up and closed her eyes in a lustful way...she couldn't be less than forty years old.

He unbuttoned her neat white blouse and sunk his face in her freckled chest. He pulled in closer and she started unzipping his pants.

His lips were slowly moving from her breasts to her neck...and then he turned his eyes upon me. His dark brown eyes pierced mine with a silent surprise.

I could feel the heart pounding in my ears and the air got heavier and heavier...I ran.

I had enough problems in my life, I didn't need for the school bad boy to be one of them. I've heard stories about him...that he owned a stolen motorbike, that he was actually twenty-three years of age and was still in the 2nd year of high school, that he's used every drug, even hard drugs like cocaine and heroin. He beat up a guy, just because he threw an empty bottle near his feet. And I caught him having sex with a forty year old woman at the school backyard...I could only imagine what he would do to me just for witnessing that.

I got sick to my stomach.

I didn't want to go back to school tomorrow...life was beating me down at school and at home. I was never good at socializing, so I didn't have any friends. But my problems go way back, all the way to my mom.

My mom has OCD. That's an obsessive-compulsive disorder. Basically it's an anxiety disorder, full of intrusive thoughts that produce fear, uneasiness and repetitive behaviours.

She has to lock the door three times. She doesn't eat or touch anything yellow. She washes her hands at least twenty-times a day. She won't go up or down the stairs, if there are more than twenty. She always counts the commercials  in between films. 

My father left us when I was three. When I asked my mom what was the reason for his departure, her answer simply stated: »Because he hated me.« If that was true, if he really did hate her, then we were better off without him. She might not be the best mom in the world, but still, she is my mom.

My mom didn't have any friends or family left, so we were alone in our own little, weird world. We never got any visitors, I've almost never interacted with other people, especially not with people my age. 

When I stepped in the classroom for the first time, I was scared. I simply didn't know what to say to others so I stayed quiet. Quiet little grey mouse. I was different, and kids can be mean to...different people. 

I've been called weird, fat, ugly, stupid, a freak...all kinds of stuff. And I've never said anything back. I just couldn't...it was like I didn't have a voice. I was screaming on the inside, but on the outside I felt like I have entered a vacuum zone, no air reached my lungs.

Sometimes the pain was to big. It was devouring me alive.

I knew only one way to numb the pain...stop eating for a couple of days. All I could feel was a warm feeling in my body as it craved for food and...the intoxicating dizziness in my head. I was one with everything, nothing could hurt me. But if something did anyway... I chose a different tactic.

The first time I've cut myself, I was in the 7th grade. Virginia Thompson dragged me in the girls bathroom and threw me in the wall. I remember bleeding above my left eye. I still have the scar to prove it. She started yelling at me why was I so weird and so stupid...and then the rest of my classmates came in and locked me in one of the toilets. They were all screaming – freak, or loser, and they were throwing soggy toilet paper roles in the cabin.

The numbness that time simply wasn't enough, I had to somehow release the pain...

They say you can only cry about thirty-five tears at once, but it seemed like so much more had run down my cheeks...So I did the first thing that came to my mind. I grabbed my mother's scissors and made a small cut over my left wrist. Break the skin and make it bleed.

I felt such relief when the hot, bloody life force was running out of my veins...I forgot about the emotional pain, and focused only on the physical one. And trust me, the physical pain couldn't even begin to compare to the emotional one.

So yes, my life wasn't that great to begin with, and I didn't want for it to get worse because of Lucas Dashwood, the ultimate rebel.

I couldn't get those dark, piercing eyes out of my mind. His lips seemed so warm, and gentle on her...would someone ever kiss me like that?

I shook my head to get that ridiculous thought out of my head... what was I thinking...the only physical attention intended for me would most likely be in the negative spectrum. Like a slap in the face.  And I will probably receive that tomorrow. Ugh, I didn't want to think about that! 

Author's note: Hello, fellow Wattpader!

This story is entered in the YoungWritersPrize competition, and it holds the possibility to make my dreams come true - to publish this story. I now ask for your help - in order to win this competition, I must achieve a very high number of votes on this - FIRST CHAPTER - in the Voting Period (it begins on 17th August 2014 and ends at 13th September 2014). Please, if you liked this story, if you liked this chapter, if the story somehow inspired you, made you feel - vote on this chapter. 

Thank you, 

Katarina

Author's note: Please, 'like' my FB page for awesome writing competitions and wonderful prizes! https://www.facebook.com/KatRuby92/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel