School, the place in which we were taught to be like a second home where we are educated, fed and get the feeling of protection and security. I will not state that any of the top points are unreasonable, because it is true. A school campus does guarantee this, although in my past experience out of the three pointers, only two seem to struck out to me as correct.
Education is a great fortune in which we as an individual are granted with. Nutrients that the district provides us for better growth is one of the many fortunes I am grateful for, but protection and security is a complete different commodity.
At the age of eight I came to a slight confusion of why school didn't offer that luxery of safety for me. Throughout the years I learned, in order to feel it you need to gain it. No I do not mean as in a competition but as in self-confidence. Being able to have a say when you fear your life being at risk on a school campus.
Many obstacles may sabotage your self-confidence but did you ever imagine your own family being the cause of it? Your own classmates, may seem a little reasonable but never did I think family could be capable of ruining a childs dreams of accomplishments and of self-esteem.
6th grade was the year in which I figured such cruelties. Sadly it took me since 3rd grade through the end of my elementry years to be used as a punching bag verbally and physically to gain enough intelligence to put two and two together.
Day after day was hell to a new level in which crying and self harm wouldn't even ease such pain at a young age.
As the evening passed, I managed to finish my assignments which were due the next day. The dark clouds surrounded the town, a low steep whisper of the wind as it blows viciously against the leaves hugging the branches on the tree.
Such an enticing scenery it was, mesmerizing the way the branches are still intact. No matter how strong the wind seems to blow they struggle here and there but yet they are there where they belong.
It fascinates me, witnessing such new found strength in the branch. Watching from my living room window gives me a good angle to the scene. Walking over to the front door, opening it I step outside to sit on the tree trunk that has once been an avocado tree. The tree itself lived its beautiful years, growing strong with a profound meaning to the spectacular piece of earth.
Showering our planet with its nutrients of oxygen, but as all good things come they seem to go. The tree once had a good life now the piece of trunk left is the only memory of its glorious years. Sitting down on the trunk, lucky for me it is placed in front of the living room window.
Grabbing a hold of the exterior window sill to balance my body, looking up at the sky, a full moon is on display for who ever wants to admire its glory. The wind picks up blowing my hair on my face, wrapping my arms around my body to create some warmth.
I may have been sitting down on the tree trunk for about forty minutes, dreading the thought of my unfortunate morning to come. The remarks in which I know for a fact will be thrown my way, the hair pulling as I make my way to class, tripping me where ever I walk, pushing me against the wall or cornering me in the girls bathroom to just verbally abuse me. All in which I dread every night and morning as the hours turn to mintues to seconds for school to start. A single tear escapes my strong hold to sustain any trace of weakness on my face.
Pulling out the small pocket razor in which I have been carrying with me since the fourth grade from my front pocket jeans. Extending my left arm I pull up the long sleeve to my elbow, with my right hand I mark once again another sorrow.
Watching as the tear of blood flows down to my wrist. Turning my arm so my palm is facing the ground the tear of blood drops on the pavement creating a small splatter. As it slowly dries the pain on my arm vanishes, leaving once again on my own to ease the pain internally. I slowly put my sleeve back down, putting the razor away I hear the front door creak.
"Estel! Get in you are going to get a cold." Looking over my shoulder I see my mom with the door covering her body as only her head is visible.
Standing up I walk towards the door, looking behind me one more time I see the dried up blood on the pavement and the branch is still intact, with that I walk inside the house as a wave of dread washes over me.
YOU ARE READING
Where Ruby Lies
RomanceEstel Castro has had a rough life, nothing has come easy to her. John Carter is what you would describe the mysterious bad boy persona. He has it all - the looks, money and the brains. Except one thing... He is missing his "Ruby". It's all he wants...
