Just an ordinary girl.....

Melissa Hart was a target......she never understood why...

This is my entry for the bullying competition. I am new to the site and still ' finding my feet' so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Good luck everyone, there is some amazing talent on this site !

Update, it's 3. 41 a.m and I've just lost the 3rd chapter due to a technical hitch so I am risking using only 2 chapters. Not as I would have liked it but tiredness has won : (


1. Melissa Hart, St Aidans tart..........

" 99, 98, 97, 96, 95...."

" Melissa Hart, St Aidan's tart!"

"94, 93, 92, 91, 90..."

My ' coping' mechanism..'. It kicked in without a thought. It was always there, just as Lisa Munroe was always there....in my ' face', in my dreams , in my nightmares. Always there........

" Hey, new girl, Lisa's the name, stick with me and you'll be fine "

Even at that first meeting I felt uneasy. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something about Lisa's eyes. A certain darkness, a slightly defiant look.

Two weeks into term and I tagged along in Lisa's shadow amidst introductions. Did I imagine that girls backed away slightly as she approached, that boys, all but a few avoided her ? Was I being ungracious by refusing her suggestions that we ' hang out together after school? I made excuses but didn't quite know why. I just knew that around Lisa I felt ' uncomfortable', intimidated even. 

Weeks later and the true Lisa started to emerge. Rejection wasn't an option to her. She turned on me so violently, both emotionally and physically along with two boys who basked in her glory. The glory of being the most feared girl, and person in the school.

The sticky red liquid  oozed from the gaping wound, drip, drip, drip onto the damp wooden floor, the moonlight shining through the small grimy window of my ' sanctuary. The garden shed was my escape from the real world, from the pain and humiliation that was Lisa Munroe and her ' sidekicks'. I felt no pain, I never did, just a sense of release each time I slid the cold sharp blade across my thighs, my arms and even my stomach. I was running out of places that could be hidden from view. My mothers voice echoed through the darkness, beckoning me inside, I used to love bed time, snuggling between crisp , fresh sheets, safe and warm but now it only signified disturbed nights, waking drenched in sweat, tears stinging my eyes, knowing that in a few hours I would be back at the mercy of my tormentors, their 'games' turning more sinister each day. It started with name calling, spitting, the odd nudge in the ribs but as the days turned into weeks, so their teasing turned into a dangerous game....... I tried so hard to show I didn't care, I really did but it was too late for that. They were like hunters stalking their prey. In desperation, when Lisa was alone I bravely approached her and asked why she seemed to hate me and delight in tormenting me. I had obviously caught her off guard and for a moment she looked taken aback that I had even dared to ask the question. Before she could answer a voice said " Come to my house at the weekend, my parents are out for a few hours on Saturday night maybe we could just sit and talk and possibly be friends instead of you being my enemy? " Was that really 'my' voice? I guessed sheer desperation had spurred me on..............

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