Kate walked through the halls of the school. I don't wanna be here, she thought. School was the last place a depressed, misunderstood teenager should be. She stared straight in front of her on the walk to her next class. She was searching for his face. She wants him to know how she felt. He walks. Kate stares in his direction through her bangs. He walks toward her. He waves "hi,".
She starts to raise her hand but stopped when she noticed that he was waving to his friend. In disappointment, her face burns a dark red as she walks away and tries to keep in her tears.
Home. Hours later. With her mom drunk and screaming.
"GET OUTTA MY HOUSE! I DON'T NEED A LITTLE BRAT TRYING TO IRRITATE ME!" her mother screamed. "MOM! PLEASE!" Kate yelled as her mom hit her. "PLEASE MOMMY DONT HIT ME! OW!" "SHUDDAP!", her mom shouted as she struck her daughter in the face with the palm of her hand. "YOUR HURTING ME! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO HIT ME LIKE THAT!?!? STOP!" Kate pleaded.
Kate ran to her room, slammed the door and locked it. She jumped into her bed and sobbed into her pillow. She grabbed her notepad and started drawing. She drew a person. A small person. It was a little boy with a rope. He was tying it around his neck and crying. Kate couldn't draw this image anymore. She started crying.
She needed relief. She ran to her bathroom to avoid her mother. She slammed open the glass cabinet over the sink, breaking the glass. The pieces fell on the counter and some in the sink. She searched. She didn't know what she was looking for, but for some reason she thought she would find it in that cabinet.
She stopped searching. She realized she didn't know what she wanted. She sat herself down on the toilet. She fought tears. She noticed something shining on the counter. It was one of the pieces of glass from the mirror that she broke. It was razor sharp.
She tried to resist her thoughts. "Why would I ever...." she whispered to herself. She stopped her sentence short, and grabbed the the shard of glass. She ran her finger down the edge. Sharp enough...
She started making small cuts on her wrists. When she started, she couldn't stop. The cuts became deeper and larger. Blood running down her arm, she stopped and looked at the mess she made on herself. She grabbed her other arm and carved the words "HATED", "ALONE", and "WORTHLESS" into it.
Her arms and hands covered in the blood of the cuts that was now dripping onto the bathroom floor.
She cried out loud a loud yell. She dropped the glass on the floor in a puddle of blood. She ran to her room, locked the door and cried into her pillow again. Blood seeping into her sheets and pillow.
Poor girl. She could find no relief for the pain she had to live through every day of her miserable life.
