Hard Life

seven

•WARNING this story may be triggering or something I don't freaking know, I'm just an idiot, remember•

This chapter will be very deep. Hope you like it.

I'm fine, seriously ignore everything I said. I was just frustrated.

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I quickly turn the corner and trip.

Making some sort of surprised sound, I fall face first into an alley way with trash everywhere.

My face scrapes the ground, getting mud from the rain on my face and into the cut on my cheek.

I scramble into the alley and sit with my back against the wall, my heart beating wildly.

I barely got away from the bully's. You know, the people that make life a living hell.

Crazed, I push the trash away from me, but the entire alley is covered in grim and dirt, and its muddy and smells like shit.

I try to wipe the mud from my face, but my hands are covered in dirty and some blood and does nothing to help.

I sit there quietly for a moment, sitting in a puddle, covered in mud, trash sticking to the mud, bruises and cuts on my bare chest and face.

I feel the tears begin to come. Why the heck are people so cruel sometimes? Don't they understand how hard it is to willingly breath everyday without everyone telling you to just stop breathing.

Don't they understand I want to kill myself as much as they want me to? Don't they understand by them telling me to cut, maybe I already have? Maybe I've already tried it. Maybe it sickens me when I see a razor because I remember the time I used one.

"You're such a loser." The older boy pushes me behind the school with such force I fall.

Tears pool down my face and I repeatedly put my fingers trough my hair, not noticing how much mud is getting stuck to my curls.

The others come up behind the older boy and snicker at me. "Look how skinny he is, I bet you 20 dollars could see his ribs under that shirt."

I squeeze my eyes shut and lick my chapped lips, trying to forget what just happened.

"Pfft no way. No one is that ugly looking." Someone grabs my wrists and I struggle to fight back as they lift up my shirt. "Oh my god, look at his ribs, he's sooo ugly, dude take a picture, we have to show everyone."

I try to get the mud off of my chest but it just rubs into my bruises and cuts more.

They lift my shirt up so it covers my face, still holding my wrists, I'm helpless to see anything. "Lol guys look, he's breathing so hard! Here here watch this."

I turn to the side and throw up.

Someone jabs me hard into the gut and I cry out in pain and surprise. "He screams like a girl! Oh my god this is too good!" I squirm around harder, but someone kicks me in the chest and my wrists are released as I fall back.

I pant, my vision unfocused and unclear. The stench of throw up fills the air and I gag.

Winded, I stay on the ground for a second. In that time they rip off my shirt and throw it behind them. "If I had your face, I'd kill myself."

Weak, my arms give out from holding me up and I fall into my own barf. Crying every second.

"I know right? Like, cut dude. Do a flip!" They all laugh at the suicide comment. Tears spark in my eyes and the guy puts his shoe on the side of my face, the other side being pressed into the groud. "Are you seriously crying?"

Why do people judge? Make fun? Tease? Bully? Abuse?

His foot is removed and I weakly get up, trying to stop the tears from coming. "Why are you crying? Huh?" Faster than I could blink, his fist connects with my cheekbone and my vision dims for a moment before retuning back to normal. "Stop." I mutter.

I sob, unable to contain the beast inside. I sob my soul out, my feelings, my broken heart. I gasp for air, but continue sobbing. The inhuman sound coming from me.

He roughly grabs my jaw and puts his face close to my face. His eyes pricing my own, his filled with venom. Mine filled with fear.

Why don't people realize they've gone too far. Why don't they realize how one more comment might send someone into deep depression. Later, sending then 6 feet under. Why don't they stop. Why don't they understand.

He smirks at me. "You do understand know one cares about you, right? You understand if you died today no one would mourn." I don't say anything, mostly because of fear, but also because I knew anything I would say against that would be a lie.

If I died right now, who would care? My friends? But are there such thing as real friends. My family? I'm already a disappointment to my family, and they don't acknowledge me as one of them. Who else is there?

Strangers? But why would a stranger care whether a stupid 14 year old killed himself today. Why?

They push me back and my head smashes against the brick wall. "Why don't you fight back, baby?" They taunt me.

I take a deep breath and sigh. I close my eyes and try to push out emotion. All my feelings. All my feelings of self hate and thoughts of self violence. I can't feel this right now. I can't feel sorry for myself. I can't stop. I have to keep moving forward.

As much as I want to stop, I can't. I need to keep on running. Running from myself.

"Just, die."

I could you know, just stop. Just slow down. Stay here forever.

Suddenly a faded image hits me. An image I've forced myself to not think about.

An image of my mom smiling and telling me to keep going. To have courage and keep moving forward, no matter what.

I jump up and shake off all my feelings. I can't feel sad. I can't feel pity. I can't think. I can't scream. I can't yell. I can't feel.

I need to be numb, in order to survive.

I take a step out of the dark alley.

"Kill your self."

Thinking to myself, I grin with no emotion.

I already have.