Alone

Chapter 1: Eliza's POV

Chapter 1: Eliza

Laughter and chatter echoed around me. My head was in my hands, gripping the roots of my hair; my elbows digging harshly into the wooden desktop. My throat swells, preventing me from breathing normally. I knew they were laughing at me and talking about me. Why else would they be so loud? First class of the day: Biology.

"Settle down!" The teacher, Mrs. A, yelled, trying to get everyone to quiet down so she could start today's lesson. It took almost five minutes and her threatening to add more homework before it became quiet. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. "Today, there'll be a new student joining us." At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. A shuffled over to let the student in.

When she moved aside, I got a better look at the student. It was a boy; he looked to be almost six feet tall, a little less, with dark, messy hair and mysterious eyes. He looked mysterious in his own way. But, he also looked normal. His long fingers twirled the chain around his neck where a cross hung, and in his other hand were his few books consisting of a notebook or two and a folder. "This is Elliot Michaels, class. Make him feel welcome! Now, Elliot, why don't you take the seat behind Eliza? Eliza, raise your hand."

I could hear the snickers around me. Someone commented, "Gross, I feel bad for him."

"Poor guy!"

I raised my hand slightly and once he saw me, he started walking towards me. While passing me, he flashed me a toothy smile. I couldn't help but smile back at him. He had the face you couldn't ignore, so I didn't. I mumbled a hey.

"Is she always this boring?" he asked me quietly during class while we were watching a movie about DNA fingerprinting, I think? Who even knows?

I leaned back so I could hear him better and I nodded. "What lunch do you have?" he asked me.

"A," I told him.

"Cool, me too. I'll try to find you then," he said.

Try, but you won't, I thought to myself. But I didn't say anything.

I couldn't become friends with him, I couldn't. Elisa would ruin everything, and I couldn't risk that.

>>>.<<<

There was a loud rapping at my bedroom door. Silently, I pulled the earbuds out of my ears that were plugged into my laptop on Spotify. "Mom wants you downstairs," Elisa bluntly said before I heard her feet padding down the hall and later, descending the stairs. I closed the lid of my laptop and clumsily stood up from my bed. It was almost seven o'clock, meaning Mom and Dad just got home from work and were going to eat dinner. I was starving, so I indeed, turned the light off and skipped down the stairs.

Ignoring the looks my family gave me, I took my seat and helped myself to a serving of mashed potatoes and a large piece of seasoned chicken that was made by our cook. Yeah, my parents were that rich and snobby. They worked as lawyers and they had hired a maid to come around weekly and a cook who came in early every day.

"The least you could do is say good evening, Eliza," my mom snapped. My head jerked up and saw her eyes popping out of their sockets, glaring at me.

"Good evening," I said slowly.

Acting as if I didn't see the smirk pasted on Elisa's face, I ate my meal in silence. When I finished, I reached for seconds. "Are you sure you should be eating that?" Elisa asked disgusted. My hands retreated, falling limply in my lap. "You should really cut down on the food you eat. Look at you! You could use some exercise; look at me! Learn something," she emphasized the last part.

"Can I be excused now?" I managed to choke out. Mom smiles unsurely before nodding.

"But remember that tomorrow morning, your father and I are leaving for that business trip in Pennsylvania. We'll be gone for a few weeks."

In seconds, I'm out of my seat and bounding up the stair, tears trickling down my face. Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I slid onto the floor, tears falling freely. I don't even know why I still let her get to me. This has happened so many times that I should be used to it! So why am I letting it get to me? Rubbing my tears away, I made sure the door was locked. I sat at my desk, my laptop open in front of me. Opening up a second tab, Twitter loaded in front of me. Clicking on the tiny symbol, a new tweet box popped up.

@lxnelygirl: Sometimes it's just so hard being strong. So why should I be? When there's nothing to be strong for...

Sending it, a part of me felt relieved. I was relieved because I was able to let that off my chest. But the rest of my anger, my depression was still there. Right inside me, just bottled up and waiting for me to break.