"What are you afraid of?" The question asked as I stared. Finally I typed in my reply, sending it to my blog. "I'm afraid of standing up for myself and other people. I'm afraid of letting people know who I am. Don't make these your fears too. I'm just a coward."


1. One

September 16, 2012

Dear Journal,

Today I got you for my fifteenth birthday this morning from my Mom. She told me I could write whatever I wanted to help me feel better, whether it was opinions or venting. I thought that it was a stupid idea at first, but somehow after seeing the world around me better, I knew just what to write about.

Before I get into that, let me just tell you if anyone will read this in the future, let me tell them to stay strong and that life is like a show without breaks. Okay, here's the story now.

It started off after school, around five o'clock. I was still at school while most of the students and teachers were gone. I volunteered to clean up Mr. Baker's classroom (he's an art teacher, my favourite, though this piece of information is irrelevant). When I went outside, I noticed two guys. One was tall with brown eyes and black hair, non-muscular, while the other one had blue eyes with brown hair, a little bit on the muscular side. They looked like they were just having a normal conversation, until the blue-eyed guy pinned him against the floor. My eyes widened as I hid behind the door. 

"Stupidest queer ever." The guy on top of the skinny one spat out, punching him on the stomach repeatedly. The insides of my stomach churned while my head throbbed, the little voice inside me saying help him, stupid!

But of course, being the stupid little Elizabeth I was, I didn't help. I witnessed a lot of bullying in my life, but I never told anyone nor helped.

"I thought you respected everyone--" The black-haired guy said, coughing. He winced when the other guy slapped him in the face. A big, fat red splotchy mark appeared on the skinny guy's face. I felt bad, and guilt was on my shoulders for not helping. 

"Everyone except gays." The other guy smirked. "Why don't I E-mail everyone tonight? The E-Mail would say "Kyle will strip for you! Admission free, guys only! Free butt-sex also included!"" I swear at that moment my face was clenched and my face was red. I've never felt this mad before. Sure, I've seen bullying because the bullies said the victims were fat and stuff, pointing out their insecurities and I have been angry about that, but this was a new type of angry. Love was love, and no one should be judged for it.

"Dude, just don't." Kyle's voice became angry and he shoved him away. Part of me was wondering where the teachers were, but the other part was like You go Kyle! 

That moment of glee quickly ended when Kyle punched the guy and he dodged it. The bully looked familiar, though I didn't know his name. The brown-haired guy attempted to punch him in the neck, but luckily Kyle dodged it, only leaving his nose red, a trickle of blood running down his face. I winced, since the sight of blood always made me feel uneasy. 

The next few moments were surely one of the most traumatizing moments I've ever seen. I think I'm scarred for life now. Really, the guy pinned Kyle on the wall and pressed his hand on his neck, choking him. He sputtered out, gasping for breath, shaking his head and trying to get his hands off him. I choked myself, since that was really not what I expected.

I must have made a sound, because the next moment the blue-eyed guy looked at me and stared into my eyes. His eyes were a deep rich blue, filled with coldness and hate. I shivered as he let go of Kyle's neck. He took deep gulps of air, and I was glad, until I found out I was his new victim.

"You gay too?" He smirked, taking a step closer to me. I held my breath for a moment as he stepped closer. "Are you?!" He demanded. Sweat pooled down the back of my head and I felt like I was in a desert. It felt hot and I felt sweaty and my face was oily and my mouth was dry.

That was when I heard the door behind me open (I was hiding in front of the door, in front of those outside lockers), and then I sprinted all the way home. When I got home, I was welcomed by the aroma of pizza, my comfort food. Thank God for you, Mommy.

But unfortunately, the pizza is still in the oven, waiting to be fully cooked, so now I am here, writing all of this in my room, lying on my bed with my favourite purple gel pen. To be honest, I'm crying right now. What I just witnessed is horrible. I can't stop thinking about it, and I feel guilty. 

Why didn't I help?

Oh yeah, that's right, I'm stupid.

Why is it so hard to stand up to people?


Omg. I ate pizza and I had the best idea ever, I swear. 

Maybe helping people on the internet would be easier. I could give out tips, advice, and I could be completely anonymous. They wouldn't even know me, but yet they would be thankful.

Now I am smiling really wide, and the tears stopped pouring. I screamed into my pillow with happiness. Tomorrow I will make the blog. 

With love, peace, and cheese pizzas,

Elizabeth Joy.


(A/N Hey guys! (: So I made another story, oops? This story is for the Real Life Heroes: A Malala Yousafzai Writing Competition. I think Malala's story is so inspiring so I made this story. Comment and likes are always nice. Feedback would be amazing ♥ I guess that's all, bye!)

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