Keeya worries, everyday, every minute. It gets so much that she just doesn't want to deal with stress, imperfections, parents and school. She is alone. Or is she? She hasn't really taken notice of a boy called Cainan before but as she realises he is just like her, can she get him to open up to her? On top of all this something terrible is going to happen to one of her close friend's Sanchita. Can Keeya's talent save her or will Sanchita's life get signed away to misery?


1. Chapter 1




Chapter 1

There are only 3 things we breathe in here at All Saints Academy: hormones, low self-esteem and suicide.

My spinning head spins out of control as I sat here in class scratching all over my body. What is happening to me? I could hear them. They were back. They taunted me, throwing threats and insults at me. Calm down and relax. Just ignore everything, you’re probably overreacting like always.

"Keeya" snapping back into reality, I drank in my surroundings . Here I was, seated in my maths class with my textbook opened up, directly in front of me. But the voices had stopped, the voices were gone. It was all just a figment of my imagination. I let out a deep sigh, before glancing down at my wrists. My hand quickly covered my mouth, stopping the screech that was fighting to come out. Blood was slowly, but surely pouring out of my veins. My wound was open. Pulling down my sleeve, I look around to see if anyone had noticed my strange behaviour but thankfully it was overpassed. As usual.


"Oh, and before I forget the maths test is next week Thursday." announces our smirking maths teacher, Mr Boulder. A chorus of groans and grumbles echo from the classroom as everyone packs up their stuff. Laughter bellows from him though, "Think of it as my valentine's day gift to you." If I'm lucky, there will be a zombie apocalypse next week. Thick crimson red blood will be the new colour of London's grey gum infested pavements and instead of screaming police sirens, the sounds of murder and death will substitute. I laugh to myself. Knowing this place, they'd probably keep it open urging us to learn, while we can hear the limbs of civilians outside being ripped and torn. Uh, no thanks. I'd rather give a zombie permission to feast on my brain than enter the gates of hell.

"Someone shoot me." Vanessa sighs.

"I will." I offer "But only if you shoot me as well?"

Mindlessly following the crowd of people leaving class she agrees "Deal.”

 "Happy revision!" Sir yells. I picture the smug look on his face as he throws a GCSE Higher Maths textbook at me. I just about catch the ton of bricks being hurled at me. Its sharp rough edges, scratch open the tips of my fingers and my back arches forward because of the weight.

"Did you understand anything in that lesson?" I question Vanessa.

Her tiny pale face looks hung out, dark circles under her eyelids are evident and her brown eyes bulged out of their sockets in exasperation.


"No! Every single word said in the lesson went through one ear and left through the other. They just ran right through me! I was lost, confused the whole lot! Why do we even need to know this algebra stuff? I want to be a vet, I want to help animals! This algebraic, nth term, expression rubbish isn't going to help me achieve that dream. It’s not going to save a dying rabbit now is it?!"

I couldn't help but watch in awe, as she sprung into motion, frantically throwing her arms all over the place and expressing her thoughts.


"There there." I coo as I stroke her shoulder looking around awkwardly.


"Why are you stroking me!" She cries out causing, heads to turn to us suddenly . Vanessa looks darkly up at me. The stroking came to an abrupt halt as I realised that she was either meditating on treading on my head, or slamming me up against a wall. Either way, it would leave me in excruciating pain. I giggle as I glare into her cloudy eyes.


"Well cheer up! We have science now!"


When we weave our way through adolescents I can’t even hear my own thoughts over the noise. It's like a football stadium in this one corridor. Besides that I feel my heart flutter inside my chest, as the metallic taste of blood floods slowly into my mouth, embedding itself into my taste buds. I had bitten down on my lip a bit to hard. Ouch. Maybe I was a little too excited for science, but then again who really had that much enthusiasm for school nowadays? I was more excited for something else, something deeper than the subject of science. Stepping into the class, I creep silently behind Vanessa; going unseen - not as if it was something new - we ambled to our seats and sat down next to Zoe. I can’t help but stare at the beauty in front of me. My eyes deeply penetrate my science teacher's body. Mr Zang shows off his tall masculine body structure in his casual clothes that made him an equivalent to a Hollister model. His freshly shaved jawline and his jet black hair stood out against his tanned skin. I watched as he swung his head from right to left, his hair following his smile made him resemble an ex boy band member. The burning desire to pounce on him overwhelmed me greatly, oh goodness. My chest began to tighten as the air around me became dense, I noticed it slowly decreasing. Intently, I examined his every move, he allowed me to absorb the sound of his harmonious voice. My fingers yearn to touch his baby like soft skin. A girl couldn't help but dream. To feel his body close to mine. Maybe now I was going too far.


"Keeya!" Zoe’s nasal voice makes me lose my train of thought "You look like you're going to hurt yourself." I laughed a bit too loud. I know this because a dozen pair of eyes are on me, including his.
"Zoe , he's looking at me, oh my gosh." 
She slaps her forehead "Oh brother, everyone is looking at you."
Smiling, I look up into sir's glistening dark brown eyes and call me delusional or whatever but he's staring back. He likes me, I just know it. Now I had definitely gone too far, I wonder what Sir would say if he knew I was thinking about him like this, he'd probably run and hide every time he saw me. He is a teacher, aged 24, while I am a student aged, 15. It’s wrong! I really need to get a boyfriend, if anyone wanted me. An unpleasant itch began to crawl along both of my arms. The itch jumps up and down crying to be scratched. I have to fight the urge, I just have to. Scratching it would just end up in me getting a dark reminder of yesterday's dark events and as I'm in school I'd rather not think about it. My mind diverts further away from the itch as I dive deeper into my work focusing on every answer I give. It isn’t working, my distractions aren’t working. My legs feel like they were on fire. They are begging me, begging for an itch. Just once, I gradually begin to feel on edge.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

I watch as Mr Zang drags the marker pen across the board, creating the sound, I dread to hear.

Scratch. Screech. Scratch. Screech.


You need to scratch. Keeya, just scratch. What more harm are you really going to do to yourself? Open wounds kiss my fingers, whispering dirty little secrets. The same metallic fluid that had embedded itself into my taste buds minutes before had now embedded itself into the open spaces of my nails. My scars and clean flesh are divided enemies at war. ‘You little weirdo. Look at everyone, smiling and messing about while you're sitting here with mutilated arms. You're just as fake as the clown across the room wearing that makeup mask. You're a liar. The one thing you hate. I hate you. You hate you. Everyone hates you. They wish you were dead, I wish you were dead, you wish you were dead.' These are the venom spiked words of a demon being hissed into my ears. A heavy stale stench radiates off of its body and it creeps into my nostrils puncturing flesh. It seems like this smell is the poison shutting down my body, because for a moment I feel at peace. My body does not move. But then my body freezes as I felt my vision being blocked off.


"Keeya, let me see how much work you've done?" All of a sudden I've been dropped back into the present along with Mr Zang staring at me looking pretty concerned. I hastily stop itching and pick up my pen. "I haven't finished yet" I mumble before pushing the book closer to the end of the desk. My face drops slightly as I see a look of disappointment flash across his face when he glances at my work book.


"You haven't even started the second task, yet! What have you been doing for the past 30 minutes?" I watch his every move. "You could do so much better, you’re my favourite student don't you know?"


You’re my favourite student...favourite student.


I cough aloud attempting to hide the smirk painted on my face. Mr Zang said that I was his favourite student, I , Keeya miller was Brandon Zang's favourite student. My workbook was handed back over to me as I apologised. He told me he wanted to see more work by the end of the lesson, I agree before watching him walk off to another student. My eyes never left his frame as he strolled towards the next student, his one free arm swayed back and forth, as his toned legs carrying him from point here to point there. Have you ever had that feeling that someone was watching over you? That's how I feel at this present moment.

Zoe pulls on my arm. "Stop looking at him like that, it's wrong.'


"I know, but just look at him. He looks like he was sculptured by God himself" she fakes a yawn before turning away. I grin slightly before pushing up out of my seat and going in search for the tray of lined paper. My search stopped when I spotted the tray on a table full of All Saints Academy’s 'Mean Girls' . Was I really going to risk whatever was left of my self-esteem for a sheet of paper? I think not. I changed my mind once I spotted one of my friends sat at the table, using a book as a shield from her fellow students. I ignore the whispers as I take the amount of sheets need to complete my work.

"Sanchita, hi" The corners of her lips twitch up forming a faint smile. Even though it was a faint, it was still stunning. Sanchita is what you would call a natural beauty, she didn't even have to try. There is no point in me lying, I am very envious of Sanchita. Her hair was like a dark silky waterfall flowing over her shoulders. There is never a moment when her light olive complexion isn't glowing, it always is no matter how many times the Mean Girls threw insults at her but that wasn't the problem, they hurled insults at every one.


Sanchita even had perfect eyebrows. They were perfectly shaped and fell just above her cat like eyes. Everything fell perfectly on her face, her nose , her high cheek bones. are in perfect places too. Lucky, cow. I'd kill to be that pretty. She is tall and thin, I am fat and short. Well I guess opposites do attract then because my friend is totally gorgeous and I am left over bread crust. "You alright?" She asks.


"I'm great, especially as Mr Zang is seated at my desk once again. Just look" I point excitedly.


She laughs shaking her head. "That is wrong on so many levels. There's a good 9 years between you two" Shrugging, I leave her side and make my way back to my desk.


Zoe gives me a look and I immediately knew what she was thinking. His back was so defined as he bent over my desk helping my class mate. I frowned as Zoe stared at me through her thick rimmed specs. I inhale then exhale as his cologne, this is a daily routine for me, just sitting down and watching him.

My fingers strain forward as I attempt to touch his tanned skin. I stop myself. Keeya! Do you hear yourself? Do you see yourself? He's a teacher! Your teacher!

Maybe if others showed more interest in me, I wouldn't have to spend my Saturday nights cooped up in my bedroom. Those Saturday nights are either spent with me writing poems or browsing the net. That is something I do each night. I just log onto one of the only social networking sites that I use, Tumblr. Tumblr was my substitute for my 'friends and family’, it was my life. It was where I found my composure. Sometimes I would just stay on for hours on end just gaining my self-esteem back up, just for it to be broken once again once I returned to All saints academy. Mr Zang stands up and bumps right into me, times like these make me so thankful for school. Zoe nudges me slightly due to my facial expression as we laugh together.

"Keeya, I'm so sorry. Next time let yourself be seen. I didn't hurt you did I?”

'Let yourself be seen', that was all that was going through my mind. He wasn't the first person to tell me that I need to 'let myself be seen' it wasn't like I didn't try. People just don't want to see Keeya Miller.

"No, sir! I'm fine" He sends a smile my way, which I accept. He then goes on to gain the attention of our class.

"Okay, guys! Before, I let you go for lunch I just want to let you know that, we'll be having a quiz next Wednesday" To both I and Mr Zang's surprise there are no complaints at all. Although I didn’t show outwards on the inside I was going crazy. This means that I would have to take time out of my ' Tumblr Schedule' too revise for this exam. Every exam Mr Zang set, I had passed with flying colours, and this one wasn't going to be an exception. All I felt was betrayal, although sir didn't know that he had messed up my schedule. It adds to the stress I have building up inside me for the past year or two but I feel like he's just used a Bunsen burner to burn up and down my thighs.  It hurts like hell, hot throbbing marks damaging and injuring the tissue inside me. But it's not like my thighs aren't used to damage anyway. Slinging my shoulder bag on my shoulder and practically run out of the science room up to my form room.


 No one's here. Good. I can't bare it when I walk into the form and everyone is sitting there. Entering a room for everyone to just suddenly turn to you could possibly be one of the worse feelings ever. I automatically assume that their talking about me, about how I look or how ugly I look. I’m paranoid over my own class mates, people I had grown up around for nearly 4 years.

"What is wrong with me?" I mumble. Clambering onto the windowsill, I stretch out my huge legs. Today is a beautiful day. The sun is singing to everyone like it's got every breath in the world, the sky is a pastel blue host for the cotton clouds relaxing and floating around without a care in the world. I wish I was up there, I bet clouds are bouncy despite what everyone else says. Not trampoline bouncy, or the moon bouncy, but bouncy castle bouncy. Aha, that sounds so cute. Out of the window boys are gathered playing football and from what I can see it looks like a fight will break out any minute. Someone ending up with a black eye or a broken nose is so unusual here. I open up the window. The scary thing about the window in the form room is that opens all the way around. I can climb out of it, onto the ledge. If I wanted to. I've dreamed of doing that so many times. It's practically the reason why I sit here. I want to climb out onto the windowsill. The wind pushing back my body trying to reason with me, the smell of car exhaustion from the busy roads across school, I can taste the diesel and petrol. It's a fire on my tongue. An unpleasant taste that makes me want to vomit. So instead I picture peace. The cars are blue waves, crashing and breaking so forcefully, and the taste of the salty sea pricks my tongue because of its bitterness. Instead of the wind pushing me back, it glides over my skin, wailing and crying over the cuts I've given myself. This time no hiding my pain because I want them to find me and realise what they couldn't see, what was right in front of them and they didn't care to look. I'm not on a mossy window ledge; I'm bare-footed standing on a hard smooth wooden pier, without a care the world. A voice…Her angelic voice sings for me, it's a spell wrapping itself around my body and squeezing all the fear out. 'Come with me, and you'll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look and you'll see into your imagination. We'll begin with a spin, travelling in the world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation...' Good grief, Willy Wonker you are a genius. I bet you never thought a teenage girl could relate to a song you sang. I take my hat off to you sir. With that song putting my mind at ease, I fly. I spread my soft delicate feathers and glide through the air. I'm flying downwards into the sea. Faster and faster gravity pulls me. My heart explodes in my chest, but my body is lifeless, still, at rest. As I'm about to enter the sea, the setting changes and the concrete doesn't feel friendly but I don't care. So I close my eyes because this way I'm finally at peace.

"Keeya, were you here by yourself?" I jump a bit as Tasha sashays in followed by the rest of the clique.

"Yeah, you guys took your sweet time!" I tut.

"Well we're here now." Tasha laughs.

Christine gets an idea "How about we play would you rather?"

"Alright." Voices agree and in less than a minute all the girls are crowded around in a circle. That was the fastest I've seen them move when there isn't any boys to be chased. I give them props.

"What about you Keeya? You in?” I shake my head slowly as I watch my friends in envy. Envy is a sin and I am a sinner.


My mind driftes into yesterday’s events as the game began. I tried and tried to forget, I really did. But it all came running back as I noticed the scars that lay stagnant on my wrists. Some looked down on me but they didn't understand. Everything happened for a reason, people do everything for a reason. I do THIS for a reason. When I begin to slowly drift back into the game as all the laughter came to a halt. I was only able to absorb one thing from that whole conversation.

"Imagine that. If it was me, I would slit my throat, or maybe I would just slit my wrist right open." My blood begins to run cold as it plays out in slow motion. I’m just attempting to register it all. I couldn't bear to think of any of my friends going through the pain that I have to endure on a daily basis. Watching as Tasha makes arm motions as if she had a blade making her way up her arm, prying it open, kills me. Everyone begins to laugh as I sit here in silence dying inside. The one person that knew about my harming stood there laughing along. Maybe it was time for me to just end it all?


"Don't say that, they obviously do it for a reason" Rachel exclaims jokingly as she calms down.

"I just don't understand how human beings can inflict pain of themselves!”

Jasmine says, shaking her head in disgust. I need to defend myself but my mouth refuses to let me. Of all times to be robbed of words the thief picks now.


The itch comes back; my stomach is flooded with butterflies. All I want to do is vomit my insides out. I can’t run from my fears any longer, running out will indicate that something was up. I would rather jump from the Eiffel Tower, down to my doom, than allow my 'friends' to know about what I do. Although I classify them as my 'friends' they just wouldn't understand, I trusted one of them but I guess that was wrong on my part. I distance myself once again, hiding in my silence. This is how my life is destined to be, no one will ever understand. They will never be able to understand how I felt or how it felt to feel so unloved. They'd be shocked then they'll probably just judge me and then leave me to go through it all on my own. Maybe they'll even result to calling me names and emo or even a goth. How could I disregard my friends like this? To the extent that I would belittle our friendship and the way it functioned. If they knew how I am thinking they would be more than hurt, heartbroken at the least. It’s just not fair. All of the 'clique' were natural beauties, standing at 5'8 or even 5'9 and then there was little Keeya at 5'4. The odd one out. The thing that hurts the most is the feeling that I can't talk to any of them about my issues without them laughing or joking about it, watching them all chatting and joking around while I suffered inside made me realise how the real world can function without pone less person. One less person in the world wouldn't make a big difference now would it? I doubt they would even notice the change. No one crying or mourning over Keeya. Who am I lying too? Myself?. What is the point? I know that I want to be taken notice of, even if it is only for a moment. I hate the fact that my presence and my words are neglected daily, I just hate it so much.

Committing suicide doesn't seem that hard, I have seen it many a times on TV. Grabbing a book out of my bag, I begin to read, this distraction will surely keep me out from the dark corners of my mind. It is dangerous in my mind. The shambles of registration are cut quick, so back into the farm we go and get rushed towards the next teacher ready with a knife and fork to dissect our brains.


"Oh, this class." Mrs Homes grits through her teeth as she sees us talking in the line. "This class! None of you know how to behave!" How can you talk when you are 20 minutes late! We were only taking after all, that is how human beings communicate. Mrs Homes annoys the hell out of me. She's stereotyped me as badly behaved just because of the people that surround me and I hate being labelled. She shares a trait with my mother, the judgemental cows. Always criticising and complaining when they have no idea what is going. Another deep sigh comes from me as I'm motioned into a hot Body-Oder smelling ICT suite. Mrs Homes is fat. There is no nice way to put this. She is an obese duck that waddles around the place. I glare at her beady eyes. God, how is she married? Her curly ginger hair looks like a wig bought from the 99p store, her freckles randomly plant themselves all over her face as if they're playing hid and seek. How does she breathe? Her skin is so tightly stretched across her body. I think the slightest tear will break apart Mrs Homes’ tight seams and spill out the yellow custard within her. Her seams must be made out of titanium because the amount of angry episodes she's had...you'd think she'd been stitched back together a thousand times. I listen intently to the instructions she gives and like an obedient dog I follow.

"Keeya do you have the presentation on our app?" Lola asks.

I pick up my bag, opening my ICT folder "It's in here hold on." I quickly rummage through the spare parts and find it.

"Hurry up." Lola's tone isn't impatient or irritated, I actually don't know how to describe it. She's just a calm and collected type of person if you get what I mean?

"Here you go." I hand her about 6 sheets of paper, then she goes back to bashing away at the keyboard.

Elizabeth and Lia are messing about as usual Googling stupidity and creasing themselves up, so I'm just here. There isn't enough space for me sit in with everyone and feel comfortable so I sit right behind Lola helping her with typing and providing ideas.

"Lola, why don't you write about how our app can benefit the people who use it?" I suggest.

She nods "Alright, hold on let me add it in."

And in less than a millisecond the class experiences an earthquake. "I can see the people sitting around doing nothing leaving everything to everyone else."

Sniggering seeps into the air, and I realise that the duck has her eyes on me. Was that supposed to be an indirect miss? Erm, no. "Me?" I say.

"Yes you!" A thousand snakes escape her tongue.

"I am doing work!" I defend myself. Right now I look like dinner to her because I can feel her slimy tongue grazing over my skin as if I was a tender juicy KFC chicken leg.

"No you’re not!"

Laughter spews out of everyone. Is she stupid?! I'm never one disrespectful to teachers but she hasn't even asked to see what I've done!

"Miss you're only judging from what you can see, not what you know. If there was space for me to sit down and look like I'm doing work I would sit there no doubt about that but as there is no space I have sat in an alternative seat." My mouth is burning; I want to unleash my feelings about her, what she says to the class and how she treats us. I'd give her such a tongue lashing! Sweet Jesus! But my mother would probably give me 50 lashings when I get home. Frown. Mrs Homes doesn't reply when my group jumps into defend me; instead she makes herself busy because she knows she is wrong and outnumbered. Yeaaaah that's right, you better waddle off! I murmur so many dark things to myself about Mrs Homes that Elizabeth talks about getting me a stress ball and Lola wants to call a psychiatrist. Lia just laughs along, adding more to my anger. I hate when they say I get stressed. How do I not get stressed with school work? How do I not get stressed when I'm never good enough? When I'm always being ignored and laughed at because of my flaws? Ever since year 2 I've been picked on. Apparently my head is too big or my face is too wide. I have a gap on the top set of my teeth which is either called cute or a curse. The deep chicken pox scars hibernating on the right side of my cheek, has decided that it never wants to leave and it even offers to pay rent. It's not my fault I'm so imperfect. Maybe if food wasn't such a comfort to me, my belly wouldn't pop out under my top or fold over my clothes, maybe I wouldn't have to squeeze into size 10 jeans every time I want to go out and maybe my mum wouldn't buy me size 12 clothes for me and force me to wear them insisting that I'm 'blowing up' or becoming 'big'. I look like a child wearing mother’s clothes when I wear size 12 but because my mother she doesn't listen I'm stressed. They don't know what stress is. Stress is living in my blood and taken over my mind. Stress and worry is what I feel on a daily basis. How am I supposed to feel fine, when I live in a world where no one understands me? I wish I was born in a different generation, I feel for those in the generation after me.

"Well next lesson I want to see everyone focused and on task, instead of slacking then telling me they are doing work." Mrs Homes looks around the class. Is she bad? Is she indirecting me?

"Miss was that supposed to be an indirect?" I ask. Eyes were sliding from me to her, back and forth. Like the idiot she is, Mrs Homes ignored me and carried on talking bull before dismissing us. God I hate that woman.



* * *



Right now everything feels like it’s getting worse even though nothing has happened. I'm on top of a mountain and then all of a sudden I've been pushed off free-falling. An avalanche happens. I find myself in bed alone, darkness resting itself in my room. Tears sit on the brink of my eyes as I pick out every crappy thing about myself. I can't handle schoolwork or tests. I'm not gorgeous like all my friends, they have features that enhance their beauty and I look like a damn panda. Literally, I have dark circles under my eyes, permanent ones. They're horrible, my skin is a brown gradient, my cheeks being the lightest then around my eyes, nose and mouth are the darkest. I did some research on dark circles and apparently it's due to thin skin on the eyelid, which makes sense but the fact that I can never change it upsets me greatly. My lips are too full and plumb, they're not pink, perky or petite. My belly is a bouncy castle and my thighs are the inflatable slides. I hate myself. I'm the most useless creation ever. I want to die. Every day, I pray for beauty or miracle. One day I just want to open my eyes and be beautiful. For once let me be beautiful? My tears got sick of sitting around and slid down my face. I'll never be beautiful. I'll always be that ugly girl. The ugly girl with a great personality and that's the major complement I get. I have an "amazing" personality but in my eyes it's the biggest insult ever. No one goes around judging people on their personality. If you're ugly like me no one wants to get to know you, so how will they find out about my wonderful personality? The people around me had no choice. They don't even fully know me. They don't know about the scars embedded on my body, the salt my tongue greets every night. All they see is my smile, my wide amazing smile that proves I'm okay. It doesn't matter as long as I'm okay. My pain is gone, my worries are gone, and my troubles are gone. There is no such thing as being criticised or complained at by my mum, no more feeling alien when I'm around people that should care about me and my insecurities and secrets don't exist. A smile is an eraser of knowledge. The angel's cushion-like fingers cling onto my shoulders. Flowers and fruits caress and kiss my nose and she continues to soothe me with her song. 'If you want to view paradise simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Wanna change the world? There's nothing to it. There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there you'll be free, if you truly wish to be. ‘“Paradise” That's a myth. The world will never change. I try to change people and make the world aware of the damage they're doing  but I’m always ignored. I have no freedom, I do truly wish to be free but my mother has a leather leash choking my neck. Freedom is a fairy-tale. Bad things happen to innocent people and terrible people are treated like royalty. The world is so unfair and unjust, I hate it, I hate this place so much. I'm too young to feel this way. I'm too young to hate the world.





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