My head was aching and I just felt weak. I wanted to stay at home, but I couldn't miss school in my first week there.
I stumbled downstairs and headed to the kitchen. I opened the fridge but there was only a bottle of wine, toast and yoghurts.
I wasn't hungry at all but I felt that empty and sick feeling in my chest and stomach, that always came up before passing out.
So I grabbed an apple and ate it halfway. Everything in me screamed after more but I refused and threw the rest away.
I left the kitchen and went back upstairs into the bathroom. I lifted my pullover and stared in the mirror. I could easily count my ribs, but there was still fat. My fingers stroked over my sharp hipbones, but my belly was still not flat.
I sighed and pulled my pullover over my head. I clutched my fingers around my wrist and wandered up to my elbow. My fingertips stopped touching and I tried hard, but there was too much fat on my upper arm.
I turned away, fully undressed and stepped into the shower.
Cold water ran down my skin and I closed my eyes.
It was the apple.
My mind kept telling me.
It was the apple.
>•<
I entered the classroom, still slightly tired. "Howell right? You're late" The teacher said and I just nodded.
My anxiety left me alone today, replaced by white emptiness, which was more of a dark grey considering the lack of light in my life.
I didn't even had time to straighten my hair, but that didn't matter.
Nobody would notice.
I sat down and let the hours went by.
The teachers wouldn't ask me anything, they knew I wouldn't answer and my classmates knew what a weirdo I was. Nobody talks to weirdos. So I just stared at the table, wondering if this hell would ever end. This circle of loneliness and pain.
And in the first break I saw Phil sitting on a bench with his friends. His fringe slightly messed up from the wind. His blue sweater with curled up sleeves. He laughed.
I recognized the boy from PE who caused my panic attack and I knew they had talked about me.
I knew Phil had told him about my muteness and all of a sudden they saw and started staring at me.
He's so weird.
Freak.
First I thought he was okay but well, I was wrong.
I closed my eyes. My thoughts were taking over again. I breathed in and out, opened my eyes and still felt glazes on me.
I grabbed my notice book and opened the first page.
'I'm mute'
I sighed. There was no need for this book anymore.
My parents didn't talk to me that much.
My teachers ignored me.
And I didn't have any friends.
No one would ever talk to me again.
No one wanted to and jesus fucking christ I wanted it neither.
I was an awkward, odd and fucked up teen. I didn't deserve conversations and I was done with them.
Back to endless silence, I thought.
I walked towards a dustbin and threw the little, black book in it.
I didn't need it.
I was alone and inexistent.
I was nobody and nobodies don't speak or write words on pages, no one would ever read.
I lifted up my head and for less than a second I made eye contact to the pitch black haired boy.
I was nobody.
And nobodies didn't live.