So What If I Cry

The tears fall thick and fast as usual, she wonders if she'll ever stop crying. The hurt will only stop if she gets away from here. But she can't. She can't even fight back. She's too tired even to say, 'So What If I Cry?'.


4. Tear Me Down

I tipped my head back and laughed as Andrew delivered the punch line of his joke. We had got to know each other very well this lesson, and now it was break. I waved him off as he set off to check out the snack bar, then I realised, I'd waved off my only friend. Oh well, all good things must come to an end. There was nothing I could do about it. Sun shining down on me, I wandered outside. Or at least I tried to, but when I pressed against the one way door, it wouldn't budge, as if on cue, I heard sniggering from behind the wood. Spinning on my heel, I entered the nearest classroom, coughing once to make my presence known.


"Why did you do that?" Quizzed the older boy who had been behind the door incident.

"Do what?" I returned, acting clueless.

"Tell on me. Grass me up." He clarified. I looked down at the ground and increased my pace. "What?!" He shouted, flapping his arms about like the idiot he was. When I gained the bottom of the slope, slipping inside the doors swiftly, I found (with what was, by then, a familiar pang of dread) a cluster of others waiting to taunt me.

"What's up wierdo?" Someone jeered.

"Freak!" I heard another say.

"She's gonna cry..." Teased a boy to my right.

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm not." I muttered, like some kind of sacred chant. But even as I spoke, teartracks formed on my cheeks. I couldn't help it. Striding on and on still, a downcast spirit dettled over me.

"Why do you tear me down, just so you can feel right?" I sung. That was another thing I liked, singing. I've joined choirs before, but the choir at my new secondary school wasn't open this year, and without that, I had no other way to sing other than in private. Without an audience.


The light from the library's bay windows shone in, making no difference to my rainy mood. Even though the things that went wrong were only little things, unnoticable ones, done in passing, they were a huge pile of daggers to me. Those daggers were pinning me down, taking control of my life. Like, I used to swim, and skate, and do things. I don't anymore. I used to be part of cross stitch club here. I don't do that anymore either. I'm not sure why. Maybe this will all stop, I think sometimes. But then that haunting weight is back again, and floods my mind with images of everything just getting worse... There's no bell, no person, nothing to drag me out of my sorrowful half-slumber, and I slip deeper into the waves of unconciousness...

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