Laughter rang throughout the hall. Only It wasn’t the good type.
I felt a hot tear roll down my face as they started tormenting me. First the name calling then the physical abuse. Why me? I whimpered to myself, why did I have to be their victim? Why couldn’t we just all get along? Stereotypes are real. The popular people are the ones who rule the school. They pick on all those who aren’t as beautiful as them. They pick on all those who aren’t as wealthy as them. I just didn’t get it.
I gasped as a hand swung around to make contact with my face. I heard a crack and my face felt as though it had been set on fire. Stay strong, Lauren, you can get through this I said to myself. But that wasn’t enough to prevent myself from bursting out crying. One of the popular’s jeered “oh look, she’s not only useless, she’s cry baby as well.” The bell rang loudly and I was left bruised and tattered on the ground. I don’t know how much longer I could deal with this. I headed over to the nurses office. I swung the door open and plopped down on the single couch. Marie the nurse turned around and gasped when she saw my face. “Them again?” she asked. “Yes” I replied as I gave her a weak smile.
As she cleaned my wounds, she asked me “why don’t you do anything about this? I’m so worried about this. I would help, but they wouldn’t do anything about it unless you were the one telling them”. I replied: “ I can’t, it would just only get worse. Plus I’m scared.” She sighed as she walked to the desk and took a lollypop out of her desk and signed the early leave slip. “ Society really is horrible sometimes dear, I thought that now you are sixteen going on seventeen that people would be more mature in dealing with personal inner anger but unfortunately that’s not the case. I’m so sorry Lauren, please feel better”. She said whilst handing them both to me. I thanked her and walked out the door. I went to my locker, took all the books I needed to finish for my homework. I plugged my earphones into my phone, blasted comforting music and jogged home.
I reached for my keys in my pocket and heard them jingle as they touched each other. I unlocked the door and entered my empty house. It was so quiet that it seemed uninhabited. My parents were away, again. They were always busy, travelling around for their work. I missed them so much, they are my only current source of comfort. They didn’t know what was going on at school because I never had the heart to tell them. It would break them. Mommy and daddy already had a load of stress from work, I didn’t need to be the one to increase the load.
I climbed up two flights of stairs, to my floor. I dumped my backpack on the carpet and made a beeline to the bathroom. As I looked in the mirror, I saw someone whom I didn’t recognize at all. The girl in the mirror had cuts and purple bruises all over her body. Her smile had long disappeared and her eyes were no longer bright, instead they were a dull, boring green color. Her hair hung limply down, they didn’t have the bright brownish shine to it anymore. I pulled off the many bracelets I wore and stared at the cuts that I had caused by myself.
People say that cutting is sick and people who do it are mentally ill, but cutting really, is a way to escape reality and a way to temporarily relieve depressing feelings. The sick people are instead the ones that bully and break others. I sat down and curled into a ball and the tears started streaming down my face once more.