Crows can't keep secrets

Alamort

They walk into the room to find my lifeless body strewn on the floor cold and unmoving, blood pooled by my wrists and a pill bottle thrown under the bed. Suddenly I sit up and start crying, a sickening cough erupting from my lungs, my eyes still glassy and without a sign of life.

I sit up in bed shaking from the dream, no nightmare, that had plagued me for the third night in a row. I could almost tell it off word for word, the scenes constantly replaying in third person in my head. I don't have time for this. The longer I keep myself busy the less I can stop to think about it. I manage to roll out of bed, a very difficult feat, and at least try to get ready for school. I bandage my arm, throw on a baggy top, fluff my short unkept hair, while throwing my bag across my shoulder and heading down the street without eating breakfast. Neither of my parents were home, although I didn't know where they are. School isn't too far, however I know that I won't make it there in time so I walk slower than usual. I stop in the middle of the road, as the path is blocked by a murder of crows, the birds ruffle the cold from their feathers just before a car comes barreling down the street scaring them all into flight. I bend down to grab a feather flinching when I feel the fabric of my shirt brush against my chest. I slept in my binder again. I didn't mean to I just couldn't bear to take it off and be reminded of what I actually look like. I shove the feather into my pocket and continue on my way to school.

At lunch I sit outside with a couple other people. They chat away to me telling me all about their day while eating their food. I look down at my food, it looks unappetizing, after a lot of stomach grumbling I reach out to grab a fry from my tray. I chew for a while before pushing the rest of my food away from me. This is sickening. A couple people look my way but don't say anything they're probably used to this I always just say I'm not hungry and move on but most times I wish that someone, anyone, would care enough to help.

The bell for the next class ricochets off the walls as if it's warning us of an apocalypse. My hand flew to my head as the noise engulfed me. I forgot my fucking headphones. I can't function without my headphones. I sat beside a row of lockers, my head in my knees as the stampede of students flooded past. Not one person looked at me. After the bell stopped and the halls died down I got up and walked to class. I can't afford to miss another class or they'd call my mother. I fidgeted with my fingers as I stepped in class. "John" the teacher called. Phew I wasn't late Mrs. Hyde was still taking roll. "Here" a student, presumably John, answered. As she went down the list it got closer and closer to my name.
"Owen"
"Kaylee"
"Hayden" each time she said a name and the corresponding student responded with "here" my heart beat faster and faster. Finally I heard the sound of my name.
"Felicity"
"Here" I winced. That wasn't my name. I didn't know what my name was but that wasn't it.

Alamort: adjective
The point of exhaustion to the extent you feel half dead