Hated (Complete)

Chapter 17

If you are sensitive to self harm (cutting) do not read this chapter.

When I got to school. I avoided Craig. I didn't go to my locker until he left, which made me late for my first class.

I felt stressed out the entire day, a lot more than usual. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch.

I did my usual, and went to the bathroom. Clyde showed up like always, calling me a spaz, a freak, and most recently a fag. He told me no one would ever love me, an continued to beat me while calling me names.

When he finally left, I couldn't take it any more. I pulled out the razor blade and went into one of the stalls. Locking the door, I began to push the metal into my wrists, and forearms. I pushed it in my arm deeply, ripping it across my flesh. Blood leaking out of each new cut made me forget my problems for at least a minute.

I sat there, watching the new cuts bleed. I'm so weak and pitiful. This is why no one loves me. Why Craig would never want or need me in anyway. Why my parents don't care about me. Why I disappoint my father so much. It all comes back to how weak, needy, and clingy I am. No one wants dead weight to drag around.

That's all I am, dead weight. No one would care if I died. Not even my parents who hate me. They wouldn't care at all. In fact, I'm sure everyone would be happier if I just ended all the pain I cause people.

If I weren't so useless maybe people would care, even a little. If there wasn't so many things wrong with me, people would like me. If I didn't twitch stutter, or drink so much coffee. If I wasn't so paranoid and weird. If I was just normal, people could like me.

If I didn't love a guy who barely knew I existed... maybe everyone would smile at me. Eventually, even, stop making fun of me.

If I just stopped it all, if I could change it all, not be different. Not be that one weird kid. Not be that freak.

"If I just quit now, wouldn't everyone be happier...?"