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?


4. Helped

I sat alone in the school nurse's office, staring at a picture of the skeletal system on a large A2 sheet of paper, trying to divert from thoughts of Scarlet. No matter how hard I concentrated my thoughts, I couldn't help but feel like I had made big mistake.

In came the nurse, Mrs Clintoff. In one hand she held a bottle and in the other, a small bag of cotton balls. She smiled sympathetically. Her smile stretched across her face and the corners stopped just below her ears, revealing crooked, yellow stained teeth and a lizard like tongue. Although her features resembled an old dragon, she was a very sweet, kind-hearted woman.

"I found something that will help heal those cuts of yours, deary." She sat down on a wheeled chair and shuffled towards me. She unscrewed the lid and tipped the ointment onto the cotton balls.

"Now this may sting." She warned. But as the damp cotton ball touched my arm, I didn't feel a sting. Instead, I felt cold. The tenderness of her hands felt alien to my arms; I didn't know whether to retrieve my arms back to their sleevy caves, or let the soft touch of her hands make me feel better. Instead, like always, I sat in silence, turning my head so I wouldn't have to look at my scars. She fastened the lid and attempted to reseal the cotton ball bag, but she had too much in her hands and ended up dropping the bag of cotton balls. I watched them disperse along the floor, no two cotton balls touched. She smiled, laughing at herself.

"Would you believe that I wasn't always this old?" I felt my cheeks crease and my mouth stretching across them. I was smiling, for the first time since I could remember I was genuinely happy, in that one moment, someone had reached out to me and made me feel something other than hurt, pain or sorrow. And that one person had been Mrs Clintoff. Her smile grew as she looked at me, like she had just one the lottery!   

Mrs Clintoff reminded me of my Nan. Same short mousy hair, straight and thick. Small square glasses, light brown and thin.  She was a small woman, slim for her age and still very pretty, with hardly any wrinkles. Her eyes were the only thing that looked young; aqua-blue. She honestly looked like she could have been my Nan's sister. It made me feel more comfortable.  She scooped up some of the balls. I slid off the table, rolled down my sleeves and helped her.

"So, how did you get these scars?"

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