“She’s such a freak!”
“What’s up with her? She’s always so bloody quiet.”
Whispers scurry through the halls, as well as gossip, rumours and occasional threats, as I walk down the hallway. Cliché. But true, like most clichés. And there’s something about clichés that people just hate. Possibly because they’re so unoriginal and happen often. I guess I can count myself amongst the cliché haters because I hate ‘the often’ too. It gets boring. Like the whispers, gossip, rumours and threats. Maybe not the threats. That can be interesting if you eavesdrop long enough to hear the reasons.
Being called a freak hurts. But I know the reason they’re saying it and it’s not the same reason I’m being hurt by it.
“Hey Alice! Am I going to get imprisoned in the dark dungeons?” Somebody laughs, behind me, causing me to cringe. Kate spreads news quick. If me and my eccentric mind counts as news.
Don’t fight it! Fulfil it!
“Sorry, no turds on the premises.” I barely turn my head and while I walk away, it seems more like strutting, from the way I spoke. I'm nothing like those typical school girls – mean and arrogant – but being like them once in a while does make you feel that extra bit satisfied about yourself.
I could see that inflicting pain, or whatever I just said, brought a sense of power and intimidation but as I snap back to reality, I realize I wasn't even close to being as stunning as those 'typical school girls'. And besides, I was never cut out to be like that.
"What a retard." I hear the same voice mutter, just loud enough for me to hear, but he's hurt and I almost feel like the bully. My cheeks flush a bright red as I scamper to the girls' toilets, or at least what is supposed to be the girls' toilets. Instead, it's an infestation of smoke and drug addicts.
As I walk through the heavy door, the only vibrant colour I spot is the word 'slut' written on the mirror, in a classic red lipstick. Rolling my eyes, I search for an empty cubicle. They're all vacant apart from one, which seems to have two people in.
There are swear words and rumours, covering the walls and door of the cubicle so I reckon it's the 'burn' cubicle amongst the girls in my school.
Moving over to the sinks, I stare into the mirror. What if mirrors are just the portals to a parallel universe, free from sadness, pain and gloom. What if there's a word in there, that we have yet to discover. A nirvana.
But that's impossible. A world without depression is a world without happiness. Besides, the girl, that stares back at me only has emptiness in her grey eyes and her skin pale and colour drained. She raises one of her overgrown eyebrows at me but doesn't smile. Instead, she looks curious. She's not even half as ugly as I thought. But then a woman appears. Staring at the girl, warmly, she strokes the girl's waist-length dark hair.
"Why did you leave?" I whisper. She frowns down on the girl, before vanishing into a blow of air and then a bunch of girls burst into the room, their laughter dying as they see me.
I hear a few of them mutter thing like "Lol" and "What is that weirdo looking at?" Then one of them speaks up, "Hey, Alice! Do you still appreciate nature after what it did...to you?" She cackles at her joke, before adding, "Or your dad?" She smirks as she watches fury overtake my burning face. My palms begin to clench and my body shakes, uncontrollable.
"Lol, is the Hulk going to attack me now?" She laughs. It's the most disgusting, evil laugh I have ever heard and it only makes me more furious! She's crossed the line and all I want to do it pelt her with witty insults to tear her apart.
"Maybe next time, you should use a glue stick instead of lipstick." With that, I flee the toilets, leaving her dry of words, but I don't feel good. The satisfaction has disappeared, replaced by sorrow and painful memories.
Due to the fact it's lunch, I divert to the corner of the library, with chunky classic book, with tiny writing, that everyone seems to avoid. At least I'll be alone. I bury my face in my lap and for the first time in what I would call a long time, I cry. Once the first tear breaks out, it's followed by a stream of unbroken tears, dampening my face and smudging the mascara I decided to put on today. I shudder, as the black hole inside of me sucks out everything. I feel empty, hungry. Why do I even bother? With the makeup to fit in with the rest of the girls to make them stop? With the insulting throwbacks to leave them startled and hurt like they've done to me.
It's not worth it. Nobody is ever going to stop. Nobody is ever going to give a shit. Your parents didn't. Why would they? Give up. It's no use. They won't even remember you. They won't even notice. Give it up....freak.
In that moment, I know how to stop all of this. I always did but now it's so vivid. I could end it all. The pain. The suffering. It could vanish into thin air and I would be free, with a heartbeat or not, that's a haven compared to this. I can change it all. Soon.