Cope no longer

(This is just a short story I had written when I was 14. It was supposed to be focused around a world issue raised in the novel we had been reading, and one of them had included bullying. So, seeing as I had once become victimized to the haunting term, I finally convinced myself to create one evolving around the idea. So...here it is! Give me feedback :) keep in mind, however, that I was 14 at the time when writing this.)

Weak, that's all I am.

I never would merge with the crowd of superiors. I would always be the outcast, the loner, nothing more than the dirt that they flick off their newly polished shoes.

I wish I had new shoes. Nothing that I wore was ever brand new. My uniform was handmade by my grandmother, too old and poor to even afford dinner for us some nights, let-alone a tailor made blazer, matching skirt and quality leather shoes. My shoes were mere sneakers painted black with sharpies, my shirt an oversized, faded yellow stained v-neck with missing buttons. I didn't really mind what I wore, because it was made with love, and not by furious hands that did it for the money.

They cared, though. They cared about every minor flaw that could be spotted on my body beneath a microscope. They cared about how I wore my hair, what brand my glasses were, what I ate for lunch, what I didn't eat for lunch, my body, my eyes, even the blotchy freckles splayed across my ivory cheeks.

It was as if they were constantly reminding me how closely I resembled scum, and would have no place in their upper class world of highly prestigious standards.

I didn't bother fighting back when they viciously attacked, like vultures to a fleshy carcass. I wasn't fleshy though. All those taunting, poisonous words about the insignificant rolls of fat finally convinced me to starve. I never ate profusely anymore. No matter how decadent, or deliciously sweet my grandmother Alice's meals may be, I never consumed more than a quarter of what was served, and it was rare I ever got a full proper meal in the first place.

"Aye, bitch!" Carmen called, earning the attention from the majority of the student body.

I paid no heed to her words. Big mistake.

"You deaf as well as dumb!? Gosh, I've met trees more interesting than you!" She sighed exasperatedly, answered by the squawking hyenas that flanked her with mocking expressions.

By now, everyone had abandoned their previous activities, crowding around for another one-way attack, with me being their dummy.

I knew it would mean certain punishment if I ignored her any more than I already was. So - with the greatest reluctance - I slowly pivoted, planting my feet firmly into the ebony asphalt of the school's front yard. I chanced a look higher than the laces of my shoes, immediately regretting my actions when I caught the faintest glimpse of icy cobalt spheres, glistening with ridiculing amusement.

"Yeah, that's right. Look at me, you know you won't ever get close to looking like this in your short, worthless life. Just go die already!"

"It's not like people are going to care." One of her followers continued, her crimson lips stretching to their limits to reveal a bleached white grin. "Nobody would give a rats if you and that old bag burned to death!"

I slowly detracted beneath their glares, not from fear, but for the pain that coursed through my system. Each word was sharp, swift, and deadly. They sliced through my confidence. Any hope that dared to surface from its hideout was immediately destroyed, floating lifelessly to depths of my mind where they would remain for as long as I breathed.

Their harmful words continued to sound through my head, ricocheting off the hard walls that trapped the swirling darkness of their evil. I never really gave it the time of day, but it was slowly surpassing the point of avoidable with its burdening weight, constantly dragging me down whenever I tried to lift my spirits.

I eventually gave up long ago with ever trying to redeem the light that once shone through me. My bubbles of optimism, so generous in number and bright in colour, had all but vanished completely.

~*.*.*~

I'd finally had enough of this constant struggling.

Never again did I want to see their faces, cold and menacing.

I hated their voices. I hated the way they could control me, and how I felt. They controlled how I saw myself, and my life in general.

I could no longer appreciate anybody's efforts. I couldn't look at my grandmother the way I once did. That was beyond impossible. She would definitely see the permanent hollowness within my yellow eyes. She would begin to blame herself for my mood, how down and depressed I'd been lately.

Sooner, or later, she would notice the scars, as well. God forbid the arrival of that day.

As I slowly lowered the blade to my stomach, I continued to replay their words in my head.

'Bitch!'

'Dumb!'

'Just go die already!'

And so I did.

There was just one thing I wished to tell them, with the last shaky breath that left my body.

You win.