Fractured Soul | COMPLETED

Part One

“Self-injury is a sign of distress, not madness. We should be congratulated on having found a way of surviving.” - Cory Anderson

It was too much. It was getting all way too much. She couldn’t handle it anymore. The tears left her eyes, cascading down her face. She couldn’t hold it in, even though she told herself not to. She didn’t want to seem weak in front them. Her heart sunk as she heard the girl’s bathroom door swing open. She tried to hide her sobs, clasping her mouth shut. Their laughter was loud, taunting.

She lifted herself onto the toilet seat, trying not to attract much attention. She didn’t need their trouble, not now. They were commenting on their appearances, as if that was the only thing that mattered. Who looked the best, and who looked the worst. They didn’t know how much words could affect a person. They didn’t know that each time they attacked her, they took a giant stab at her heart, ripping it to shreds with their vicious words.

She trembled as she begged herself not to cry anymore. She couldn’t help it, but a quiet sob escaped her lips.

Silence.

The girls had stopped talking and the tension was thick in the air. She trembled with fear, begging God that they wouldn’t find what stall she was in. The bathroom was huge, so it would take a while for them to find it.

She lifted her backpack onto the toilet seat, as slowly as she could. The girls had started to whisper to one another, which made her heart kick up a notch.

Maybe they’ll forget about it, she thought to herself as she tried to keep herself together.

The bruise was still fresh and tender, she didn’t need this, not right now, not ever. The whispers grew louder and she held her breath in anticipation. The footsteps echoed across the stone tiles that spread across the entire floor. The shadows came ever so closer to her door, as she awaited her punishment. She closed her eyes, wishing that she wasn’t here and they weren’t there. She wished she was at the comfort of her own home, surrounded by her walls.

A sudden bang on the door, jolted her out of her daze.

“Oi! Freak, we know you’re in there!” One of the girls shouted, laughing to her friends.

A chorus of giggles surrounded her as she tried to ignore them.

“Are you ignoring us? Wonder if your mother ever taught you manners, oh wait-” Even though there was a door dividing them, she could still see the sneer on her face. The sneer that pushed her into giving up.

The small dig at her mother’s condition shouldn’t have hurt her as much as it did. She wanted to feel strong, she really did but they were slowly breaking her. Her self-esteem was crumbling and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to feel confident in herself, but how can you feel confident if you don’t even know what it feels like?

How can you love yourself when you see a disgusting human being in the mirror? How can you love yourself when you see your flaws being pointed out at you? How can you love yourself if people are constantly putting you down with snide remarks? What do you do? Do you appear strong, even if your walls are falling?

She wanted to appear strong, as if their words didn’t hurt her. She wanted to appear as if their words flew over her. Like, she didn’t care at all. As if she didn’t care what they said, or what they thought of her.

The truth was that she did. She cared about every single dig, every single whisper, every single push, every single shove, and every single comment that was aimed at her. She couldn’t stop it either, she had to care. She was a teenage girl after all. She had to care.