growth

5

B U L L I E S
• AMALIA •
• ONE YEAR EARLIER •

I don't like school. It's full of meanies and bullies and horrible people and teachers that are only here for a pay check and nothing more. If I was a teacher, I'd be one because I wanted to help the kids in whatever school I taught at, not because of money.

     I walk into cooking class. I don't have anyone to go sit by, so I try to get to every lesson early so people don't make fun of me when I try to go beside them.

     Soon the class fills up and all the tables are full, except for mine. Out of the four seats, only one is filled. By me.

     No one wants to sit by me.

     I wish they would.

     The lesson begins, and the teachers hand out our ingredients. They give us everything we need to make the dough, and they'll cook it during lunch.

     When I've mixed everything and it's beginning to be dough, I get it out the bowl, a small smile on my face. I like this lesson—

     Something wet hits my leg, and I hear a crack.

     I look down to see an egg smashed on my calf. I glance up. The girls on the table next to mine are laughing at me, pointing and drawing other people's attention. The teacher watches but doesn't do anything, and my eyes water as I grab a paper towel, clean the egg off and put it into the bin.

     I'm kneading my dough when another one hits me, followed by a big wad of wet ingredients. A tear slips but I quickly wipe it away and clean myself up again. Their laughter grows until it's all I can hear.

They don't do anything else for the rest of class, thankfully. But when I'm leaving and the classroom is completely empty, one says my name.

     I turn around nervously. Within a moment, two girls have hold of either of my arms and a third is approaching me slowly. I try to thrash, but they hold on tightly.

     "You're a freak." The girl walking to me—Josie—spits. "That's why you have no friends. You're a mute whore, and no one will ever like you."

     A tear slips down my cheek. She slaps it away.

     She turns around and walks over to the fridge, pulling out so many things. I start to cry when she comes over to me. Before she even gets in front of me, she throws an egg at my shirt. It explodes in yellow and white.

     For the rest of lunch, they pour and throw food on me and hit me. By the time the bell rings, I'm covered in all sorts of things—milk, eggs, condiments and whatever else she found in the fridge.

They leave, laughing, and I cry harder as I run through the vacant halls, finding one of the exits and bursting out of it. Luckily the school isn't at all secured, so I'm able to slip between two bars of the fence and run away.

• TW: SELF HARM, ABUSE, RAPE •

My step-dad is waiting for me when I walk inside. I expect him to ask me what happened when he sees me, but instead he laughs.

     He laughs and laughs and laughs.

     I sob as I rush past him and up the stairs. I lock my bathroom door behind me, stripping my ruined uniform and getting in the shower.

     I fall onto the floor because I'm crying so hard. I pull my knees up to my chest and let the water wash off the food, blood and drinks.

     My whole face hurts, so does my stomach. Still, I decide to add to that pain, grabbing the closest razor and slicing my thigh with it. Over and over and over and over again until the water runs red.

     I pause when I hear banging on the door. A second later the lock twists and my step dad walks in. I immediately try to cover myself up, but he grabs my wet arm and pulls me into a standing position.

     "What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" He shouts. "Wasting all the water." He slaps me across the face. He pulls on my arm, forcing me to step out. "Stupid little whore. Wasting my razors on yourself, too. Who do you think you are?"

     He pushes me backward, making me fall back into the bathtub. I hit my head on the side, making stars erupt in my vision.

     "If you wanna act like a little slut, you can be treated like one too."

     I try to squirm away as he pulls me back up again, pinning me against the wall. He presses my face on the tiled walls as he pulls his pants down.

     I sob. Scream. Make any noise I'm not afraid to for the next forty minutes. When my vision finally darkens, it's like a gift sent from the gods.

     I wake up sometime later, collapsed on the floor and still with no clothes on.

     I grab a towel and wrap it around myself as I stand up, head racing. I stumble into my bedroom and change into pyjamas, then climb into bed. My hair is still soaked, but I don't mind it as I curl up beneath my thin covers and fall asleep.

     I hate my life.