I heard loud screaming and instantly decided it was a bad idea to come back. So, I turned around and sprinted down the hall.
I flew down the stairs and out the door again. I'll get my thermos later. I have other ones, so maybe Craig can just keep it.
As I walk home it starts to snow. I look at the snow falling. I sigh and walk into the house. My mom and dad are probably asleep, so I try to be as quiet as possible.
I go up to my room and sit my bag down. I look in the mirror on my wall. The bags under my eyes are bigger than normal and my hair seems even crazier.
I pull off my shirt and stare at the bruises and cuts in the mirror. They look awful, staining my body in various spots.
I look at my cuts, the most recent ones looking like they'll split open any minute.
I look broken.
That's why no one loves me. That's why I'm too skinny. That's why I'm short and my hair is messy. It's why there's bags under my eyes, it's why everyone picks on me.
Because no one loves me.
Because I'm hated.
Because I'm broken.