Save Me Please
Prologue- What Lead to This
When I wake up Friday morning, a tight feeling of anxiety hits my stomach like a bowling ball. It happens every morning, but it still hurts just as bad as when it started back when I was a freshman.
I look at my clock. I fucking woke up at 5:30 again. Dammit, I don't even have to leave until 7:30.
Deciding to get breakfast out of the way, I go down to the kitchen. Luckily, my mom said she wouldn't go to one of her many medical conventions until after Halloween. She's one of those people who specifies in a certain disease so she has to go to all these things in order to inform the people of her disease. I can't even pronounce it correctly and it's not like my mom and I talk about it. Well about anything.
But hopefully that will change since she won't be leaving for the next week.
I go into the fridge to get some cranberry juice when I see a note on the door.
"Dearest Rebecca, sorry to bail on you but there's this huge convention in Seattle that I NEED to go to. You understand right, darling? Bye, see you in three weeks! -- Mom"
I swallow down a dry sob. I'm so fucking sick of her leaving me for weeks at a time and acting like everything's okay when she gets back to just LEAVE again.
I wipe the stray tears off my face and get changed for school while watching YouTube.
Most girls at my 1000-person school wear those unreasonably short things that have a huge designer name attached. But I'm wearing a black t-shirt with dark jeans that have my personal bleach-designs on them.
Clothes are cool. If I ever get out of here, I want to go to New York and design clothes for some really cool indie company.
But knowing me, I probably won't get out of here.
The bus ride to school is surprisingly uneventful. Normally I'm tripped by a freshman who already knows that I'm the most collectively-hated person in school. Or maybe a new rumor starts about me banging the entire lacrosse team or being such a bitch that I told everyone about Rachel Markus's pregnancy scare when I don't even know who she is.
On the walk to my locker, my feet fall out from under me and I land on the ground. "Watch where you're going, bitch!" One of my main tormentors, Tom Parker, snarls at me from above.
Tom Parker is linebacker on our school's football team. He's a member of this 5-player group that fuck a ton of the football groupies at our school and have an intense rivalry against our own soccer team. We call them "The Wanted" because pretty much every girl wants to sleep with them.
Well, not me. Max George, the quarterback, tried to get me to go out with him for most of eighth grade but I kept saying no because he's an utter douchebag and I'm harboring a four-year-long crush on our soccer goalie, Harry Styles. Unfortunately, Max forcibly kissed me at some 8th grade graduation party someone was throwing so I kneed him in the balls and told him to knock it off, and he said he'd make my life a living hell.
Mission accomplished, Max.
I'm yanked from my thoughts when someone harshly grabs onto my tricep, picks me up off the ground and presses me into the lockers.
Ow, Max.
"He was talking to you, you fucking freak." Then to hit his next point home, Max presses me even harder into the locker. The lock is digging into my hip and it hurts so bad I wince.
Biting the words out, I just say. "I'll work on it."
"Good." He throws me to the ground and I land with another thud.
Normally after an episode like this, I'd be choking on sobs and I'd have to go to the girls' bathroom to have a good cry before I go to my first period Science class.
But not right now. I don't feel like crying. I just feel tired. Tired of everything and all the bullshit I have to deal with. It's utterly exhausting.
I go to my locker to get my science text book, trying to walk off the pain in my knee and rub the bruises forming on my arm from Max's harsh grip and the one of my hip from the lock. I halt a bit in front of my locker. And everyone around me snickers.
"CUNT" is written in dark black sharpie on my locker. I stifle a shudder. They can't see me react. They can't see me react. They can't see me react.
Deciding the best reaction is to just ignore it, I use my locker just like I would've any other day.
The day doesn't get any better. In my classes, my teachers totally forget I'm there. Someone added "BITCH" to the previous word on my locker, this time in bright red lipstick. I've heard that I was such a prude but only because no one would ever fuck me and then I heard I apparently gave birth last night.
Funny, I don't remember that.
But the kicker is when it's time for lunch, and I go to the cafeteria. While carrying my lunch, I go to sit down at a table. Unfortunately, my school has a rule that unless you're a senior, you have to stay in the cafeteria. So I'm stuck here.
Someone harshly taps my back with fake-nail fingers. I turn around and see Kelsey (I don't know her last name because she's just one of those people who are known just by their first name) and her clique of football groupies. I don't know whether or not she's actually dating Tom but they're at least fucking. Each teacher has caught them at least once going at it in one of the school's many hall closets.
"What are you looking at, nerd?"
"You tapped on my shoulder. I wanted to see what was up." I shrug, eating my pathetic plain-ham sandwich.
"Ugh, you're such a bitch." One of her posse rolls her eyes. I actually think that might be Rachel Markus.
"Yeah, no wonder no one likes you!" Kelsey snickers and gets so close to my face. The entire lunchroom has gone silent so everyone can hear her whisper: "You're just a waste of space."
I make the decision right there, as I hold back my tears. As I try to pretend everything's okay. As I finally break.
I'm killing myself tonight.
I look at my clock. I fucking woke up at 5:30 again. Dammit, I don't even have to leave until 7:30.
Deciding to get breakfast out of the way, I go down to the kitchen. Luckily, my mom said she wouldn't go to one of her many medical conventions until after Halloween. She's one of those people who specifies in a certain disease so she has to go to all these things in order to inform the people of her disease. I can't even pronounce it correctly and it's not like my mom and I talk about it. Well about anything.
But hopefully that will change since she won't be leaving for the next week.
I go into the fridge to get some cranberry juice when I see a note on the door.
"Dearest Rebecca, sorry to bail on you but there's this huge convention in Seattle that I NEED to go to. You understand right, darling? Bye, see you in three weeks! -- Mom"
I swallow down a dry sob. I'm so fucking sick of her leaving me for weeks at a time and acting like everything's okay when she gets back to just LEAVE again.
I wipe the stray tears off my face and get changed for school while watching YouTube.
Most girls at my 1000-person school wear those unreasonably short things that have a huge designer name attached. But I'm wearing a black t-shirt with dark jeans that have my personal bleach-designs on them.
Clothes are cool. If I ever get out of here, I want to go to New York and design clothes for some really cool indie company.
But knowing me, I probably won't get out of here.
The bus ride to school is surprisingly uneventful. Normally I'm tripped by a freshman who already knows that I'm the most collectively-hated person in school. Or maybe a new rumor starts about me banging the entire lacrosse team or being such a bitch that I told everyone about Rachel Markus's pregnancy scare when I don't even know who she is.
On the walk to my locker, my feet fall out from under me and I land on the ground. "Watch where you're going, bitch!" One of my main tormentors, Tom Parker, snarls at me from above.
Tom Parker is linebacker on our school's football team. He's a member of this 5-player group that fuck a ton of the football groupies at our school and have an intense rivalry against our own soccer team. We call them "The Wanted" because pretty much every girl wants to sleep with them.
Well, not me. Max George, the quarterback, tried to get me to go out with him for most of eighth grade but I kept saying no because he's an utter douchebag and I'm harboring a four-year-long crush on our soccer goalie, Harry Styles. Unfortunately, Max forcibly kissed me at some 8th grade graduation party someone was throwing so I kneed him in the balls and told him to knock it off, and he said he'd make my life a living hell.
Mission accomplished, Max.
I'm yanked from my thoughts when someone harshly grabs onto my tricep, picks me up off the ground and presses me into the lockers.
Ow, Max.
"He was talking to you, you fucking freak." Then to hit his next point home, Max presses me even harder into the locker. The lock is digging into my hip and it hurts so bad I wince.
Biting the words out, I just say. "I'll work on it."
"Good." He throws me to the ground and I land with another thud.
Normally after an episode like this, I'd be choking on sobs and I'd have to go to the girls' bathroom to have a good cry before I go to my first period Science class.
But not right now. I don't feel like crying. I just feel tired. Tired of everything and all the bullshit I have to deal with. It's utterly exhausting.
I go to my locker to get my science text book, trying to walk off the pain in my knee and rub the bruises forming on my arm from Max's harsh grip and the one of my hip from the lock. I halt a bit in front of my locker. And everyone around me snickers.
"CUNT" is written in dark black sharpie on my locker. I stifle a shudder. They can't see me react. They can't see me react. They can't see me react.
Deciding the best reaction is to just ignore it, I use my locker just like I would've any other day.
The day doesn't get any better. In my classes, my teachers totally forget I'm there. Someone added "BITCH" to the previous word on my locker, this time in bright red lipstick. I've heard that I was such a prude but only because no one would ever fuck me and then I heard I apparently gave birth last night.
Funny, I don't remember that.
But the kicker is when it's time for lunch, and I go to the cafeteria. While carrying my lunch, I go to sit down at a table. Unfortunately, my school has a rule that unless you're a senior, you have to stay in the cafeteria. So I'm stuck here.
Someone harshly taps my back with fake-nail fingers. I turn around and see Kelsey (I don't know her last name because she's just one of those people who are known just by their first name) and her clique of football groupies. I don't know whether or not she's actually dating Tom but they're at least fucking. Each teacher has caught them at least once going at it in one of the school's many hall closets.
"What are you looking at, nerd?"
"You tapped on my shoulder. I wanted to see what was up." I shrug, eating my pathetic plain-ham sandwich.
"Ugh, you're such a bitch." One of her posse rolls her eyes. I actually think that might be Rachel Markus.
"Yeah, no wonder no one likes you!" Kelsey snickers and gets so close to my face. The entire lunchroom has gone silent so everyone can hear her whisper: "You're just a waste of space."
I make the decision right there, as I hold back my tears. As I try to pretend everything's okay. As I finally break.
I'm killing myself tonight.
No prob. :)
8/5/13