Saving Eliza.

Eliza is troubled. Her life is far from perfect, in fact it's so close to imperfect.

Oakley is Mr Perfection. He is everything anybody wanted. He's kind to most people, just not Eliza.

English class brings them together and could Oakley help Eliza with her troubles or will he totally ignore her like before?

Warning! Includes upsetting topics like self-harm, anxiety and anorexia. Please be aware it may upset some people.


2. Chapter 2: Thoughts of a Troubled Teen

Chapter 2: Thoughts of a Troubled Teen


I wait outside of my English classroom until I get enough nerve to knock on the door. 

"Come in!" I hear a gruff voice yell. That is the voice of my English teacher, Mr. Winsler. 

I push the door open. When Mr. Winsler sees who it is, his face brightens a tiny bit. 

"Ah, Eliza! Great to see you, just take your seat by Oakley." My English teacher says which is met by jeers. 

Oakley Waters is Royals Academy "Mr. Perfect". He's handsome with chiseled features. His green eyes are prominent in his always naturally tanned face. His lips are full and perfect. He's tall and walks with that "swag" most teenagers think they have these days. He's popular and smart, what's not to love?

Except I can't look at it this way. Whenever anyone mentions Oakley, I think of the person who used to bully me everyday. Used to pick on me and call me horrible names that still haunt me. 

Slut. Freak. Fat. Stupid. 

Oakley stopped eventually. Though he had already said just about everything that could possibly hurt me. Just what he didn't realise is things like that can stay in a girls mind forever. It's like I got a huge label above my head. It just sits there, not saying anything, just emotionally hurting me. Eating me from the inside. Oakley made it clear he hates me and I don't really care. Why should I?

Everyone hates me. 

For the first time in a while, I realise something. I'm alone, so very alone. 

I walk carefully round the desks to reach mine and I sit down quietly. I pull out my pen and lay it on the desk. I grab my book and begin to write that date. 

"Alright class! Every year we have our big topic papers in English lit! You did it last year, and most of you and out with flying colours! Oakley got an A*, same as at least another five people. All of you earned a C!" Cue the claps. "So I can now officially announce the topic!"

"You will do a presentation on a book by a great classic author! There are sheets coming round, one between two, to choose the author you wish to do a presentation on." Mr. Winsler says before clapping his hands. 

Oakley hand shoots straight up. "Sir, what do you mean by 'one between two'?"

"Oakley, do I have to spell it out for you?"

Beside me, Oakley goes bright red. He quickly recovers his "cool".

"One between two means me and her." Oakley spits. 

"Yes, Oakley, you are working with Eliza."

Underneath his breath, Oakley swears. 

"Don't ever talk to me, Eliza." Is all Oakley says to me when we get handed the paper. 

On the paper, authors are listed with a box by their names. 

John Steinbeck - Of Mice and Men
Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet 
Robert Cormier - Heroes
George Orwell - Animal Farm
Charlotte Brontë - Jane Eyre

"We are doing, Shakespeare." Oakley says. 

He gets up and hands the paper to Mr. Winsler before leaving the classroom in a hurry. He's probably going to say something about me to his friends

I pack up my things and listen to the grumble of my stomach. 

I begin my slow trek to the library. 


I find a small space in the back of the library where I am alone with my thoughts. 

Am I as ugly as everybody whispers? Am I that bad to work with? Does anybody even like me? What's the point anymore? No one would miss me, bet people wouldn't even know. 

The bell ringing breaks me out of my trance. I brush my hair out of my face when I realise it's wet with tears. I quickly brush them away and almost run to History. 

History passes without a blip. All I did was think about those small, silver blade locked in my drawer by my bed. I so badly wanted to relieve today's pain with just one small cut. 


Only one. 

I walk silently down the halls again. Everybody avoids me and there's a small pathway just for me. I hasten my walk to a stride to get to Geography on time. 

"Could anybody tell me why England has so many tourist?" The small Geography teacher asks. Her mousy brown hair is scraped back into a tight bun and it makes her wrinkles very prominent. Her glasses are like bottle tops and she wears a dress with a cream knit cardie.

If she asked me, I wouldn't know. I'm barely scraping a C in Geography. I release a sigh and go back to think about those beautiful blades waiting for me at home. 


Dinner comes and goes all too fast, I eat nothing. If anything my thoughts eat me. 

How could people be like this? How do they sleep at night? I should just die. Who would miss me? Certainly no one here. No one anywhere actually.

These are all thoughts of a troubled teen. 

I walk to Physical Eds quickly and walk straight into a toilet cubicle. I sit awkwardly on the toilet while pulling off my long sleeved t-shirt that covers my old and new scars. Some are just faint lines, reminders, while some are red and raw. 

I pull on my jumper quickly and cut off my view from my scars. 

I emerge from the cubicle ready for physical eds when the whispers begin again. 

"She so skinny. "


"Have you seen her bones?"


"She looks like a chicken!"


"Those clothes drown her. "

I ignore them and sit in a corner, rocking myself backwards and forewords to stop the horrible voices that I know are soon to come. 

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