Bullied || Shawn Mendes

Chap. 8

The fact that he actually cares brings a slight smile to my fcae. I feel my cheeks warm up quickly and I just know that they're bright red. Before I have a chance to reply to the text, I see a woman, probably in her thirty's, walk into the room. She intructs us into the back room and I find myself in between two girls about my age. The chairs are in the shape of a circle, so that we can all talk and listen to each other.

Everyone in the room is silent as we all either stare down at our palms or off into space. The instructor seems to be writing something down on her clipboard even though she hasn't said a word to any of us yet.

"Alright." she finally says. It feels as if I have been sitting here for hours, though it's probably only been a few minutes. "Thank you for being here on this beautiful day. Today, you're going to be able to express yourself, and share your feelings and your story. Don't be afraid to tell us. There is no judging here. Would anyone like to start?"

No one says anything. We just sit in silence for what seems like forever. I bring my eyes up for one second and meet her gazing smile. I can tell she's encouraging me to talk.

Out of everyone here, of course it has to be me.

"Um, I'm Tegan." I mumble.

"Would you like to share why you are here with the others?"

Not really, I think to myself. But I know that I really have no choice but to tell them. "I don't really no where to start. Um..well, I guess you could say I'm not really happy with myself. People bully me at school. Alomost every single night, I  would cut my wrist before going to bed. There were times when I really just wanted to die. I came close to killing myself once, I really did. But...I didn't, and after that, it has just been cutting my wrists." when I look up, it looks as if everyone understands what I am talking about. They probably do. Their looks show worry and cae at them same time.

"And how are you now?" the lady asks.

"Fine, I guess." the words come out of my mouth smoothly, but I know, and everyone else should know, that I've just told a lie.

I'm not okay. Never have I been okay. Outside, I can act like the happiest girl in the world, even though everyone at school knows about my bullies. But on the inside, I am dying, slowly. Everyday I am getting weaker and one of these days I might just break.

The sound of another voice brings me back to reality and I see a girl beginning to talk.

"Hi, I'm Lucy." she says slowly and weakly. "I live in a foster home. Actually, I've lived in many foster homes. I was abused as a child. My parents would slap me, push me, starve me, and sometimes they would cut me. I thought that since they cut me, they wouldn't notice if I did to. So I did. All up and down my arms was covered in scars from both me and my parents. One day, my parents caught me eating food without their permission, and they almost beat me to death." her story almost brings me to tears. I really don't understand how people can be so cruel. "But now, I live in yet another foster home, with completely different people. And, although I have yo start all over again, I'm grateful for that."

The rest of the time goes by slowly, probably because I would look at the clock every four seconds. I, honestly, don't feel any different then when I did when we stared. Hearing their stories brought emotions to me I never thought I could feel before, but I don't feel any different. Usually I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself, but now I know that others are going through what I am going through.

"How did it go?" my mother asks, as I walk into the front room. I still feel like she is still angry with me because of the events that happened earlier today.

"Fine."

The car ride home is awkward and long but as soon as we get home, I immediately rush up into my room. Slamming the door behind me, I collapse onto my bed face first and let my emotions take the best of me. Before I know it, I'm covered in tears. I let evey one of my tears drip down my cheek as I bury myself under my covers. I try my best to be silent because Brandon is right next door and I know that if he hears me crying, he'll come knocking on my door.

Hours pass before I find myslef sitting at the kitchen table awkwardly looking at the space in front of me. My parents sit across from me and Aaron and Brandon sit on either end of the table, leaving me with the whole side of one side to myself. Nobody has said a word to each other for the past five minutes and I'm about ready to pull out all of my hair. Aaron sings to himself next to me, as he stuffs his face with macoroni. The only sound echoing through the kitchen is the sound of Aaron singing.

"Hey, how come you got to leave school early today?" Aaron whines, staring at me with bold eyes.

My mother clears her throat and we all turn our attention to her. She swallows her food quickly before speaking to us. "How was everyones' day?"

"Awesome!" Aaron basically screams. "Today a firetruck came to our school, and an ambulance, and a cop car! We all got to see inside of them. The firetruck was my fovorite because it had really cool buttons in it. But I didn't like the cop car because the back seat was too hard for me." he explains, and everyone suddenly smiles. I wish that I could have the energy that he has. He's always so happy and full of excitement. "I even got a cool firefighter hat!"

"That's awesome buddy." my father laughs. "Are you gonna be a firefighter when you grow up?"

"Of course I am!" the high pitch scream of Aaron echoes throught the house as he makes everyone laugh.

I look over to my mother and see a look of displeasure on her face as she stares down at her food. I suddenly frown, remembering that she is angry with me.

After dinner, my parents bring us into the family room. Brandon, Aaron, and I are sitting side by side on one couch and my parents sit across from us. They have a look of worry on their faces, as if they're about to tell us we're losing our house.

"Your father and I have something to tell you guys." my mother says, in a hushed voice.

I know exactly what they are about to say, and it's all my fault.