Allison Smith just moved to South High Academy, a boarding school for rich people where poor have no right to live for them. The bullies finds their way into her life, wrecking it up until he came to save her. Who could he be?

This is for a Story Writing Contest with Wings by Little Mix as my chosen category.



Things to remember:

   *Wear coat

   *Buy new Concealer for scars

   *Think twice

   *Provide new razors

   *Smile often


                My hands are shaking as I took the band aids in my personalized medicine kit for cuts. My intension was not to cut deep but to cut enough to hurt and distract. Nevertheless, the wound hurts despite getting used for many times.

                I walked in daze towards the plaza upon deciding to go to the indicated place. It isn’t safe. I reminded myself.

                I looked at my watch, 7:29PM. I waited. Again looked at my watch. 7:56PM. I waited a little more. Another glimpse at my watch and its 9:31 PM. I waited for a few minutes. 9:58. UGH

                Girls are not born to wait. I left the plaza and proceeded to the school. Everything is dark except the gymnasium but I remembered leaving my scientific calculator on my desk so I paced to the room, adjusting to the visibility of darkness.

                School turns haunted whenever students start to depart to their respective rooms. But this room is vacant and the hairs in my skin starts to stand. 

                I stopped.

                I can feel eyes on me. What if I am not alone in the room? Oh God I'm afraid of ghosts!

                My feet suddenly moved very fast on the way to the door. Just as my hand aims for the doorknob I bumped the tables and fell.

                The lights turned on. I saw a lot of students’ lips curve to grin showing off bare teeth.

                The world is shaking again. I moved swiftly, dodging the papers crumpled with hatred as the haters rain it on me. My hands are midair, trembling badly failing its purpose as my shield and providing an easy way for the papers to finding their slot to bleed my face. Everything’s a blur that I can’t make view of the pieces that rips my flesh. Their amusements drained my humanity. Scream. I thought. Suddenly a huge blow from a bag hit my thighs followed by a pointed unknown thing hurting my arms. I moved frantically desperate to escape.

                 Finally a scream left my silenced mouth. But their laughter grew louder. Pitiless.

                “Please, stop!” I begged loud loudly. “Please.”

                “Go to hell,” someone replied. I felt a stab in my heart though I've heard them say this to me a million times before.

                “Die!” series of voices added.

                Begging has no rule in this life, the more I beg, the worse things turns out. Please. Every time it’s like this, people treating me a trash or an insect to play with.  I have no place, but I have no choice  to choose from. My hands traced the edges of my wounds, wiping the blood sucking its way out as my classmates tortured me.

                Dropping to the ground I curled on the wooden floor, tears pouring heavily as I grasp for air. 

                Die. Ugly. Asshole. Useless. That's me. I should die. I am ugly, very ugly. I have no use. I am a total use –

               "Let her go," someone shouted, eyes averted in the direction towards the door. 

                I remained still, body lying on the floor, wasted, drained.

               “I said let her go,” he repeated. “Get out!” He sounded more like a professor.

               Curiosity flooded through me, attempting to have peep but failed until I felt hands grabbing my back and surprisingly pulling me in a tight hug. His chest provided a big role, providing a place to rest for my head. This stranger combed my messy hair with his bare hands repeating “It’s okay I’m here” Over and over again as I cried.

                “Look at me,” he said as he cupped my chin and raised it.

                “Oh no.” I can’t believe it. Impossible.

                Adam Ashford.

                He gave me a smile that melted me to the highest point.

                “You must be insane.”

                “No. Its them who is insane.”

                “Wh-what?” I stammered. “You have a game isn’t it?”

                 “Not me but them.” He said smiling as he pulled me in another hug and began singing …

                 “…cause wings are made to fly.”


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