Welcome To My Life - by DocMartensAndCoffee (Jasmine Blackwell)
Copyright (c): All rights reserved.
If you've read this anywhere other than Wattpad, it's been nicked, and I'd very much like for you to pick up a weed whacker and hit whoever reposted it in the head with it. Repeatedly. Until they bleed. Or pass out. Whichever comes first. Cheers :)
This story contains strong themes of homosexuality, crime, rape, drug abuse and strong sexual references. If you are offended by any of the things listed, I recommend you stop reading now.
I bent my head, trying in vain to hide from the snickers and whispers as I moved down the school corridor. I hated it at school, but the plan was to get to my locker and then to the classroom without too much damage being done. I couldn't cope with it, not today. I begged Mariah to let me have the day off - physically went down on my knees and begged - but she refused. I suppose it was for my own good, but I couldn't help resenting her a little bit for it.
All I could hear were unfriendly jokes, taunts and catcalls. I was glad my long hair hid my face - at least then they couldn't see me blushing. They couldn't see how their jokes got to me. When I finally reached my locker - what felt like a marathon away from the front door - I entered my new combination. I had to change it at least once a week, because somebody always found out and broke in, either stealing or destroying all my textbooks and coursework. Thank God nobody had gotten in so far this week.
I took my English Literature book and shut my locker again, fumbling slightly as I locked it. Trying to ignore the rude gestures and swear words being shouted at me from every direction, I made my way to my English classroom, right on the other side of this block. It was gruelling and several people tried to trip me up, but nobody actually made any physical contact with me. Every cloud, eh?
I sighed when I flopped down in my usual seat, right at the back of class. I liked being here - it meant the teacher couldn't see me. Then I didn't get picked on for answers. Which meant I didn't have to speak in front of the class. I hated answering in front of everybody - if I got the answer right, I was a nerd and a boffin and everyone laughed at me. If I got the answer wrong I was an idiot and a retard and everyone laughed at me. There was no way I could win.
I sighed as I rested my head on my book, which I'd plonked down on my desk. I hadn't always been like this - shy and insecure and picked on constantly. I used to be reasonably normal. I wasn't popular by any means, but I had my own little clique, my own friends. We weren't losers - we were just that bunch of kids that people didn't mind. We didn't have any stigma around us. We were just in the background. Always there but never noticed - until it changed. A bit like oxygen, really.
It was because of me that it changed - although I failed to see how it was my fault. I didn't really do anything wrong. They were the ones who chose not to believe me, to turn their backs on me when I needed them most. And I so needed them right then. It was horrible, what I went through, and I'd never wish it on my worst enemy. And yet people thought I'd be sick enough to make something like that up. To lie about being put through that. It disgusted me to know that there were people in the world who did.
The screech of the school bell shattered my thoughts, and I lifted my head, looking up at the teacher through my fringe. She started rabbiting on about Shakespeare or something, and I quickly lost interest. I put my head back down - and the teacher stopped mid-burble.
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