The First One
625 Words
Marinettes Point of View
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"Hello, Maritrash," my least favorite blonde said to me. "What are you doing over here, have you been abandoned by your friends?" She said in mocking sweetness. She cackled after that.
I felt my hands clench into fists, I had to stand up for myself this time. "No, Chloe," I said, using the same fake sweet voice she used on me. "But at least I have friends, not some slave." That maybe went a bit too far.
Chloe's whole face lit up red. Not red in embarrassment, red in anger. "You don't have friends, you have people that feel sorry for you and put up with you!" She raised her voice. "I bet that if you died, they wouldn't even care, they'd probably celebrate not having to put up with you and your fat ugly face every day!" She was now yelling, but nobody was near. "Meet me after school behind the building." She ordered, and I felt myself nod. I pushed past her and into the empty classroom. In a few minutes, people would start piling up in here.
Just as the thought passed my mind, Alex and Kim burst through the door and fought to get to their seat first. I couldn't cry now.
School passed by blandly. Nothing happened, everything mushed together into a blur. Yet, no one noticed. No one pulled me aside and asked if anything was wrong. No one cared.
I was almost happy to go meet Chloe as the bell rang. I wouldn't be ignored, the pain in my head would probably be less severe.
"You came." Chloe smirked.
I nodded and looked up at her just as she pushed me into the wall. My back and head stung, but at the moment, my mind was clear, and it was blissful. She threw me on the ground and started kicking my side. "That'll show you how no one cares for you, Maritrash." She said as she started to walk away.
She couldn't hear the words that left my mouth next: "Thank you."
I got home and saw a note on the counter that said that my parents would be gone for a few days for a baking competition. Wow, my own parents didn't care about me. I felt my eyes start to water. I ran up to my room and let them fall.
I walked over to my sewing stuff and saw a small knife that I had used for cutting a very stubborn piece of fabric. I picked it up and held it in my hand, debating what to do next.
I bit my lip and pressed the blade against the skin on my wrist. Ugly I dragged the blade against my skin, watching as blood started to come out of the small cut. Fat I cut myself again, biting back the tears as I dragged it across my skin. It hurt, but it took my mind off of what had happened today. Weak Another cut. I was weak, but I didn't like that other people knew it. A Pain Another cut. A Burden I dragged the knife against my other arm, this cut twice as long as the other ones. I was breathing heavily, it hurt so much! But at the same time, it made me happy.
I looked down at my arms, now blood soaked. I realized that blood was such a pretty color, light and dark at the same time, comfortable yet slightly threatening. I loved it.
I tossed the knife on my desk, I'd probably need it later, and carefully walked to the bathroom to treat my wounds. I wrapped a tight bandage around both of my arms after putting some disinfectant on it and went to bed.
- Writer
