Different

This is a story of a 15 year old girl. She is surrounded by a group of bullies in friends clothing. Her "Friends" bully her as she is different. She is threatened that if she moves away, she will be killed. Will she break free of the monsters?

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3. Feared

She instantly pulled her hand way and covered her gaping mouth. With her other free hand, she pulled up my other sleeve, revealing another scarred arm, identical to the other. Again, she withdrew her hand and smacked it upon her other hand, which covered her open mouth. Her glassy eyes were almost about to burst, the tears threatening to explode from her eyes. My eyes, however, remained wide and my jaw open; my secret was out. She flustered around the spot she was standing on, not knowing what to do, overwhelmed by the news she'd just discovered. She suddenly stopped pacing and decided what she had to do. The teacher gently took my hand and walked me quickly down a series of corridors. And I, being the idiot, let her lead me to my unraveling. 

Finally, we stopped as we approached a large, wooden door. Nailed to the door was a slab of granite, and on it, engraved the words which anyone in my position would fear: "Head Master's Office". The red headed devil teacher barged through the door, dragging me with her. She sat me on the ugly, lime green bean-bag before shutting the door and marching to the Head Master's desk in flurry. 

As she reached the desk I heard panicked whispers, from both my teacher and Head Master. Realizing my scars were on show, I yanked down my sleeves and crossed my arms, somehow I hoped it would protect me. I suddenly heard footsteps coming towards me and instinctively, I looked at the floor, feeling ashamed of my wounds. I felt my Head Master enter my bubble of personal space and saw him crouch down to my level. I stupidly looked up and saw his goofy face. My Head Master was roughly in his late 30's, early 40's at the most. He had mousy, brown hair, which seemed to disappear at the top of his head. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, with bags under his eyes and a slightly bulging stomach he looked much older. For a first impression, he looked slightly intimidating, but he could do no more than shout as from what I have heard, he was very nice and had a great sense of humor. 

I stared back down at the floor as he began to talk.

"Miss Lantor says you have some bruises along your arms, may I see them?" I sat there, not saying a word, what was the point in tying to defend myself? He slowly unfolded my arms then rolled up my sleeves. My scars seemed to look deeper and redder in this light. He let go of my hands and I let them drop. 

"Did you do this to yourself?" I gradually shook my head, still unable to talk. 

"Did someone at this school do this to you?" I didn't reply. I didn't know if I should tell him. If I did, what would Scarlet and the others do to me? Would they do anything to me? After all, he could stop this. I could finally be someone normal, someone I always wanted to be. This was my sign. This was how I tell Scarlet and the others that I was moving. I took in a deep breath and finally spoke for the first time, the name that I feared so much...

"Scarlet Hanshall"

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