TWO
Do a Favour and Kill Yourself
As soon as I step into the parking lot, I'm being pushed, pulled, hit, people are calling me names and are doing whatever they can to make me feel excruciating pain. I swear I'm missing chunks of my long brown frizzy hair and I'm going to be covered in even more dark purple and yellow bruises tomorrow. How do the teachers not see what's going on? Or maybe they do, but just don't care...
"What kind of name is Bramble? Why are you here? You're such a loser! Parasite! You're worthless. No one will care if you disappear. You're a nobody." Their taunts circle through the air, making me cringe.
I don't need a mirror to know that my eyes are bloodshot and puffy from the non-stop tears that slide down my cheeks. I tried not to give in to them, but it didn't work. The things they are saying and doing to me hurt and I can't help but cry. Why do they treat me like this? What did I do to deserve this? No matter how many times I ask myself these questions, I can't figure it out!
"Why don't you do everyone, including yourself, a favour and kill yourself?!" A girl with a cold voice calls, earning several nods and cheers of approval from the surrounding people. Instantly, my mind goes fuzzy and I freeze. Should I really kill myself? Are they right?
Yes. A soft voice in my head whispers.
Without thinking, I shove the person in front of me—a short, dark haired girl with glasses—creating a domino effect. Before anything else can happen, I take my chance and run as fast as I can with an aching body, to my house, five blocks away.
Once I turn the key into the fancy gold plated lock, I fling the oak doors open, hearing them. slam against the wall and run up the grand staircase, down the hall and up more flights of stairs, without stopping until I get to my room on the fifth floor. Once I navigate my way through my huge, book cluttered room—while knocking over a few of the piles—I leap onto my queen size canopy bed and bury my tear stained face into my silky pillows, hoping it will muffle the sounds of my screams and cries of pain.
It seems as if I've been crying forever, when I realize my tears have stopped and I can't cry anymore. With wobbly legs, I stumble around the piles of books, knocking over even more while trying to make my way to my black docking station sitting on top of my desk and turn the volume up full blast. After hitting shuffle, I hear the bass of my favourite song thump throughout my room, vibrating my bones. Wobbling back to my bed, I curl up in a ball against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest and wanting nothing more than to sink through my bed, into the shadows and disappear.
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YOU ARE READING
I'm Broken
Short StoryDescription: They always say that rich people have great lives. Whether in books, movies, tv shows, you name it. But everyone is different. You can be bullied if you're wealthy or not. People will bully you over almost anything. Everything you are i...
