Not The Heroine!

(1) Falling

Beautifully Edited By UltiDeduction

"Pick this sh** up now girl!" My mother screamed at me, throwing a glass plate at my head.

The plate narrowly missed me, instead landing on the spot right beside me with a deafening clang.

"I-I'm sorry." I said lowering my head.

I accidentally dropped a plate while trying to serve breakfast, but I didn't think she would be so mad over it.

She probably drank in the morning again.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I glanced at my father, who was reading the newspaper on the couch. He gave an amused grin as he skimmed over its contents. At times he would pause and take a long drag from his cigarette. His languid posture suggested that nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, as if today was just another start to a normal day.

I shut my eyes, desperately holding back the tears that threatened to escape my eyes. For once, I thanked my drunkard of a mother for coming home early.

I couldn't take it anymore.

After what happened last night, I knew I could not stay here. Dad was getting too close for comfort and mom was getting more and more violent.

I needed to leave.

But where do I go?

"Are you listening girl!? Pick it up now!" She spat, her spit landing on the broken pieces of plate scattered all over the floor.

"Yes mom...I'm sorry." I said.

I picked up the glass pieces with my bare hands, feeling the sharp, jagged edges as they cut through my skin. Blood started to seep from the cut. I didn't dare linger any further, frantically gathering the remaining pieces before leaving the room.

-At School-

I was late to school - not that anyone cared. As soon as I arrived, I rushed towards the nurse office to get my cut treated. The only thing preventing blood from escaping was the cluster of tissues I had pressed against the cut. To my surprise, the nurse was absent today, so I could only recall the steps to dressing a wound from memory, grinning as I admired my clumsy handiwork.

I went up to my locker and unlocked it. Instead of a locker cluttered with books, clippings and photos, I was greeted with a completely empty locker.     

I glanced down at my shoes. They were supposed to be a beautiful, pristine white, but the shoes looked like the remains of something that was doused in coffee for an hour, trampled over by a lawnmower, and lit on fire. This is yet another example of my classmates' allegedly "harmless and fun" pranks. Whenever I would accuse them, they would feign ignorance, telling me I was delusional and overly sensitive.

I closed my locker and went to class. I don't even bother anymore.

-

My teacher was handing out the test we took last class, which I already know I failed.

I never got the test review since my classmates never gave it to me. They would actively avoid me, some even going as far as asking the teacher to reassign their seats as being next to me would "lower their productivity" in class. Even though half the school year had already passed, I had not made a single friend. At times I would wonder whether I had an invisible bubble around me that would forbid anyone from approaching me.

When I asked my teacher for a copy of the test review, she only looked at me dismissively, blaming me for not being well-liked by my classmates. She said I should just ask a classmate for a copy.