My Story

This is a memoir about my life


3. Chapter 3

Walking into school on Tuesday was absolute hell. Cade had told Lyndsey who told Hailey about the events of that weekend. More than the usual stares were had as I heard whispering this time as well. “Slut!” Cameron said when I entered the classroom. I just shrugged it off and sat in my usual seat. People start to gag and fake puke and I couldn’t take it.

    “What the hell is this about?” I asked one of my classmates. More giggles and whispers went around the room. Then, it dawned on me as to why they were laughing. Saturday night. I darted out of the classroom and ran into the bathroom with tears threatening to spill.

    I sat in there for what seemed like hours before I heard my name on the loudspeaker. Hesitantly, I got up and walked down to the office where my principal greeted me warmly. He motioned for me to sit across from him at his desk and he began to talk to me.

    “Lauryn, why aren’t you in class, and why did you walk out of the last one? This is very unlike you.” I sighed and frowned as I thought of a way to tell him what happened without telling him of the events that occurred this weekend. “They were calling me a slut. I co-couldn’t have just stayed in there and let them call me names. It was humiliating, so I went to the restroom to get away from everyone.” A few tears were threatening to fall, but I held them in the best that I could.

    My principal shook his head and sighed. “You can’t just walk out of class Lauryn. You could’ve gotten in a lot of trouble. However, since you’ve been honest with me, I’ll let you off with a warning. Are you okay to go back to class now?” I nodded, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. He wrote me a pass, and I went to my math class.

    When I got home that day, I went straight up into my room without bothering to even look at my mom. I put in my ear buds and grabbed my little friend to take the pain away again. I walked down to get the boys, and that night was the same as every other night. Dinner, fighting, leaving. It was their routine, and taking the crap for it was mine.

    The rest of that year was the same for me. I went to school, got bullied, went home, got yelled at, went to bed. That’s all it would be, and I would be on autopilot all the time. I felt like no one cared, so I was continuing to go to hot spot to try and make sense of myself. That of course, didn’t work because nothing at that time could make me feel better. That’s why I found myself going to my friend’s house to get drunk. I was being punished for hurting myself externally, so I just did it internally.

Needless to say, I didn’t remember about half of the weekends that I was with my friends. I was so drunk every Saturday night that I couldn’t remember half of Sunday morning.  It was a low time in my life that I wasn’t proud of.

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