Alive? Or Just Breathing?

For a while, Scarlett has been depressed. It started in Year 7 when Claire, her ever-changing boyfriends and her followers started bullying her. Scarlett has know for a while it is bullying, but doesn't know what to do about it. Can Drama and the new teacher, Miss Talbott help?


7. Chapter Seven

I gave Claire her lines with my head down. She pulled my head up and chucked me under my chin.

"There we go; good girl," she stated condescendingly. I tried feebly to pull my head away, but she pulled back with more force. "Hey. Look at me. Look. At. Me. If you land me in detention for the third day in a row, there will be big trouble." I didn't dare point out that the one yesterday was her fault, or that she would probably end up in detention anyway. I just nodded slightly, and she let my face slide out of her hand. I looked down, tears already filling my eyes. I put my hand up to wipe away the ones that were about to fall, and I heard her titter above me, softly whispering, "Pathetic..." Tears were spilling over faster, and I turned and ran to the toilet.


Why was I so useless? Why couldn't I just be normal like everyone else? She was right; I was pathetic. Urgh, I hate myself. I sat down and savagely poked my disgusting stomach, as it hung in folds over my trousers. Tears poured down my face, and I could barely see my bag as I pulled the sharp blade out of its fabric.


The pain wouldn't stop. Pain in my arm, pain in my head, pain all over my body. I savagely raked the blade over my skin again and again, tears blocking my vision until my face was screwed up in ugly agony. Help me. HELP ME! Make the pain stop! Make the ugliness and the fat and all of me go away! Sobbing silently, I hadn't realised that the bell had gone. Suddenly, I realised that the everywhere was silent, and quickly wiped my dripping arm and shoved the blade away. I dried my eyes swiftly and ran out of the bathroom. Everyone was in class. Panic ripping through me, I ran to my first lesson, science again.


Stumbling through the door, I said in a rush to my teacher,

"Sorry, I've been with head of year and she forgot to write a note in my planner." She just kind of vaguely nodded and waved me to my seat. At least there was no Claire. That would have been worse. The teacher sort of liked me and I had always been good, so she was more inclined to believe me. I didn't get a detention. A sigh of relief passed over me.


Science passed nearly peacefully. I nearly started crying again when I realised what the topic of the lesson was - bullying. I pulled myself together and stared at the wall, wishing the tears away. It sort of worked. I pulled my hair round my face like curtains: a thing which seemed to be becoming a regular escape. Luckily, we hadn't got onto the consequences of bullying (since some guy decided to disturb the class by trying to flip his chair or something, and had put up a fuss when he had to be taken out), like cutting, anorexia, bulimia, and general depression, otherwise I would have actually started crying. They give you all these 'encouraging' messages, and everyone in the class looks round and whispers to each other disgustedly, saying things like "Why would someone do that to themselves?" or "If that ever happened to me I'd just tell my friends or someone." Inside my head I am always screaming at the disgusted, wary looks, saying It's not that easy! It's hardly a choice when you're in this state; when you believe every word a bully says; when you believe you should be doing all these things to yourself. If you hate yourself as much as the bully hates you, 'Just tell someone' doesn't work! 


After science I belted it out of the room and into Geography, a class which unfortunately contained Claire. I hid from Claire's watchful gaze, the account of yesterday running round my brain now there was nothing (as such) to distract me.


There was a picture of my brother on Miss Talbott's phone. The brother I had not seen for 6 years. Jamie. We kept in touch by text or phone at birthdays or other occasions, but other than that, he had kind of drifted away from us. I knew he had had a big row with our parents before he left, but I was fairly young at the time and never understood why. I hadn't asked my parents because I remember the crying and the complete absence of him - or talk of him. I didn't want to ask, and then when I reached year 7 and the bullying started, it faded from my mind, and I began to wonder if I had any fault in it. We had been so close, he had been my protector, my best friend, the person I could always rely on. He was 11 years older than me. He had been looking after me and protecting me since I was born. I could always go to him, whatever the situation, whatever the time, and he would listen. My nickname for him was JimJam - I couldn't say his name as a baby, so the name JimJam stuck. I remember the night before he left, three days after the original argument. I was just eight. He had told me to remember that it wasn't my fault, and that he would always love me and be there for me. Looking back on it, it seemed scarily like a talk parents would give their children when they were splitting up. For the first few years I spoke to him over the phone every week, often more. Then I went into year 7, and I began not calling him as much, thinking, realising, he would have more important things on his hands than a silly schoolgirl's little problems. Even with all the phone calls originally, I had never actually seen him since that very last night.


He would be 25 now. About the same age as Miss Talbott. He couldn't- he couldn't be... dating her could he? Jamie, dating my teacher? No surely not. He always wanted to be a singer and had little gigs at bars and things. I think he mentioned something about a 'big break' about a year ago. Maybe he had had a gig somewhere, and she got a picture with him. I hadn't spoken to him properly for almost a year and a half, maybe even nearly two years, and anything could have happened. He could have fans now. Maybe Miss Talbott had seen him at a gig and got a picture. Who am I kidding? I have no idea why she has a picture of him. With her. I am thinking of mad, unlikely stories as to why she has a picture of him. Why was I even thinking about this so much? I hadn't seen the guy for 6 years. I had never seen the girl before this year. Why was I over thinking this?! I needed to stop, now. I just needed to ask my brother if he had a girlfriend. Yes. that's what I'd do.


God! That took way too long. Geography was nearly over. I resented myself for how much I was thinking into this. I was doing it again! I tried to turn my focus to the lesson, swearing I would sort it out later, not now.

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