Wounded Heart *Trigger Warning*

Chapter One: Day One

School. The one word I hate to hear after a long summer without it. Content comes to an end, and torture begins.

Getting out of bed, I walk over to my dresser. Picking clothes, such a tedious task. I decide upon my favorite comic t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and worn down high tops. Letting out a small sigh, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The bathroom is cluttered as always. After brushing my teeth, I dig around for a bit before finding my straightening iron. I plug it in, crank up the heat, and wait for the green light. Once ready, I take it to my rat's nest of hair. Finally when every last strand is straight, I grab my bag from my room and head down the stairs. As I get to the bottom of the stair case, I see my mother. Asleep on the couch. Again. Just another ordinary day in the Matthews household. Mom sleeping all the time, and dad being drunk before noon. Typical. 

I swipe an apple from the kitchen counter, and leave out the front door. My black straightened hair was blown by the light autumn wind as I put my earbuds in. Turning on my music, I take a deep breath. Fresh air. I step down on to the side walk, and begin on my way to school. I look down at my openly displayed wrists, scars standing out like ketchup on a white shirt. Sighing, I cross the street. 

I take a deep breath and stare at the red double doors. The school entrance. The gateway to the place that has crushed me over and over again. I step up to the doors, taking another deep breath before opening them and walking inside. I scan the walls as I make my way to the cafeteria. It hasn't changed a bit. Stepping into the cafeteria, I finish off my apple and toss it in the trash. I make my way over to a far corner table that is empty, and sit down. People began crowding the cafeteria and talking to their friends, after a long summer without them. Couples that hadn't seen each other in months, reacquainting themselves. I watched everything, as if they were on a television and I were at home in my room. Loneliness. The most depressing thing to ever exist. 

Lost in thought, I am abruptly slammed back into reality as the cafeteria doors slam open. My old best friend, walking through them. Ruby Monroe. The Emo Queen of the school. She's so beautiful now. I remember when she wore glasses and had zits all over her face. She's changed a lot since fifth grade. Her long, curly black and red hair flows like silk ribbons. Her snake bites, snugly fit around her plump lips. Her smile, bright enough to blind you. 

Ding-Dong. The bell sounds, instructing us to make our way to homeroom. I stand, pushing my way through the crowd and down the hallway. As I arrive at my homeroom, I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder. "Awe, look! The pathetic, sad, little emo loser!" The words come from a small distance down the hall, but ring in my ears. I turn to see a group of football players, and their quarterback has his arm around me. Brad. The meanest of them all. "How's it going Anorexy?" He says, tightening his grip around me. "Isn't that nickname a little childish, and old, Brad?" I frown up at him. Shrugging his arm off, I walk into my homeroom. He follows shortly behind me, smirking. "Come on now, Paige. Don't be like that." A fake pout spreads across his lips before he bursts into laughter. "Just leave me alone, Brad." The words hiss from my mouth. I take a seat in the very back corner of the classroom, placing my things on the floor next to the wall. Anorexy. The name rang through my head like poison, slowly killing me from the inside out. Brad's nickname for me, for four very long years. 

The clacking of dress shoes catches my attention. "Good morning class, my name is Mr.Smith and I will be your homeroom teacher for the remainder of this school year. Please listen up as I take a roll call." His gruff voice gives off a feel that he means business. He began calling names, one by one, until everyone had been marked present. The rest of the class drug on as I doodled in my notebook, not really paying any attention. Homeroom has to be the most irrelevant, unimportant class to ever exist. 

The chime of the bell rang once again. I swiftly shoved all of my things back into my bag, and stood from the desk. Quietly, I waited as everyone else fought their way out of the room. Once most everyone was gone, I made my way out as well. Finally, I make my way to the best corridor in the school. The arts hall. It's always so quiet and serene here. I walked inside art class and found my favorite table just in time to hear the second bell ring.