Stay

Chapter one.

Hello everyone! This is my first book here on wattpad which is pretty cool am I right? Hope you enjoy and don't forget to comment your thoughts and opinions along the way!
Enjoy!

(first draft)

***

School in my opinion, should be called a prison. Trapped in a cold stone building where everyone is out to get you. You can't trust anyone, students or teachers and your only true friend is yourself. But, sometimes you can't even do that. You can't trust yourself to not trip on that bottom step in a crowded hallway and you cannot trust yourself to not get hot and sweaty with embarrassment when everyone starts to point and laugh. This small, hidden closet is the safest place to be; or at least that's what I believe.

 A broken vacuum cleaner, a mop covered in dust and some old-school supplies that no one uses are the only things left in this forgotten closet,  plus my own purple fluffy pillow that I brought from home and left here. I call this room my reading box. My safe place. Where I can be hidden away from everyone and everything. The small electric lamp that usually lights the room is so old that all it does is give the dusty room a yellow tint therefore, I drain my phone battery to use my torch as a light to read and yet, I'd rather be here then anywhere else.

The bell rings, startling me as my eyes skim read over paper and ink, hurrying to finish the chapter before English class. Slowly slinging my school bag over my shoulder, I stand up, the book still in my hand as I open the closet door without even looking up. A screaming teenager whizzing past slams the book out of my hand causing it to tumble onto the floor. My chest tightens and I take a deep breath before picking up my book as I mentally prepare for the last two hours of the school day.

Placing the book carefully into the small pouch inside my school bag, I steadily make my way up the steps, holding onto the banister in case someone pushes or knocks into me, everyone here is always in such a rush, they never seem to notice (or care) if the walk into me. The palms of my hands become sweaty and I can't help but listen to my thoughts as they repeat words over and over like a broken record:

They're looking at you. Judging you.

The hairs at the back of my neck stand up and a shiver goes down my spine as I walk past a group of girls, keeping my head down as to not catch their eye. However, the more I attempt to shove those intrusive thoughts to the back of my mind the louder they get. Louder and louder until I lose control of them, of the negativity and paranoia that comes along with anxiety.

Not again. Not here.

My heart pounds against my chest, again and again almost like it's going to burst out at any second. Thud, thud, thud. The thought of being stuck in that room has already hit me, affected me. No way out and nowhere to get away from these people. 

As I quickly approach the class room, it takes all my strength not to shed tears, and bolt in the opposite direction. But I know that on the outside I look like a normal girl. No one is ever able to see the quiet battle inside other heads and at this moment in time, I'm quite thankful for that.

Perhaps that's why she choose to pick on me and call me those names. They want a reaction, are begging for one. But I try my best to not give them what they want.

Pulling up a dull navy chair, I sit myself at the back of the room in the corner. Bringing the long sleeves of my maroon jumper over my hands, I scrunch the fabric into fists before covering my face and focusing on my breathing.

In, two three four. Out, two three four.

But as the classroom begins to fill up with students and gradually becomes more alive, adrenaline builds and my body goes into overdrive with panic, the only thing I can do is wait out this living hell. It isn't long before the first paper ball is thrown, and I start to count each one as it hits either me or, if they have a bad aim, the desk. One ball scratches me just below the eye causing a burning paper-cut. I almost jump out of my chair as a girl slams the palm of her hands onto my desk.

Her hair a midnight black and her eyes a sparkling green. The clothes she wears leave very little to the imagination as she leans on my desk dressed in a small black and white play-suit. She slowly moves closer and closer to my face until I can clearly smell the fresh mint on her breath. Her fists still tightly placed on the edge of my desk, my whole-body freezes with fear and intimidation. 

"Hi tripper, how's it going?" She utters in a quiet whisper, just loud enough for me to hear. I refuse to even glance at her as my stomach sinks, the feeling making me want to puke. "Got nothing to say to me?" She pauses, probably able to hear my quick breathing. "Good. Keep it that way. Alright tripper?" She lightly slaps me twice on the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough for me to know it was a warning, before making her way to her own desk.

The boys start to surround her, swooning over her beauty. Over her front cover because although no one would like to admit it, we always judge a book by its cover. Layla looks like the sweet girl everyone wants to be friends with. I don't know if they are aware of how she treats me, to be honest, I don't think they would care or even do anything if they did. Everyone in this place is just as bad, including the teachers who witness my daily dose of bullying and continue to ignore it. They all start to laugh outrageously as Layla gives me the stare of warning to never mess with her, and I'm not stupid, so I never have.

By the end of the lesson, I collect all the scrunched-up paper lying on and around my desk. They're covered in words like Ugly, slut, and fat but I try not to take any notice as I dump them into the bin.

Every second before the bell is a struggle. I can only hold back the tears of frustration for so long before I burst and when the final bell goes off, I dart out of every door and run down every hallway. Pushing past any people that get in my way as I rush for air. For a sense of freedom.