Gracie Freaking Hall

Gracy

All my life, everyone called me a freak but no one had gotten so far as to actually kill me. Everyone was either afraid of me or wanted to see me destroyed. Yet somehow like a bad plant I kept living. I'm not sure why if I'm being perfectly honest. I wanted to die as much as everyone else wanted me dead but every time I thought about my mother. she had already lost my father, how would she survive without me? So I stayed and kept my head down. It worked when people steered clear and if not, I came home with a busted lip and black eye. However, nothing stopped a mother's scorn. She would yell at the principals and it would work until word got out. Then just like smoke, she would quit her job and we would already be halfway to another town to start fresh. "Just keep your head low and no one will bother you," she would say as she patted my head, rubbing her fingers down my smooth hair.

"No one will bother me," I would repeat. Her words always soothed me and yet they also left a hole in my heart that no amount of words would fix. Until I met her, Brianna managed to make me feel powerful and as if I deserved to live but giving someone that power also makes you vulnerable.

The day I met her was after a week of taunts and shoves by people after my secret got out. Kingston didn't keep his promise of killing me since he seemed to find it more satisfying to watch the life in me drain day by day. I hadn't told my mom because she had managed to find a good job she enjoyed that didn't consist of cleaning toilets or vomit. She was finally happy and I wanted to give her that much, especially because I could take it. At least, I told myself I could.

I walked to my locker with my head low as people parted like the red sea but then there was Kingston waiting for me. "Hey freak, should we unalive you today or tomorrow?" He said with a smirk as his goons laughed in their high-pitched laugh that reminded me of a hyena. I ignore him and open my locker but I'm suddenly shoved into the ones next to me. His face is close, through the sunglasses I can see that his eyes are set in a hard stare filled with fury. "I asked you a question. It's impolite to not reply." He nods at his goons and they instantly start throwing all my books and papers until they reach my writing journal. This, they pass to him and he instantly starts flipping through half-written poems. "How cute," he says as he reads one out loud. The crowd watches as I stand there in horror.

"I'm scared.

When you say my name.

I'm scared how nice it feels coming out your mouth.

I'm scared of the feelings that will never be enough.

Looking into your eyes, I could see the white picket fences everyone dreams of.

I could hear the laughter echo and the crinkle in your eyes.

I could see it all,

but that's not my life.

I'm always on the run, but I wish I could hold on to you a little bit longer.

The world had other plans, and I need to say goodbye now.

Just know, with you, I felt a little less scared."

"How fucking pathetic, the freak thinks someone would actually want to be with her," he says and begins ripping out page after page until they're all scattered around. I wanted to tell him that the poems weren't about anyone in particular, it was the emotions beyond my own that I wanted to convey. For me, there would never be happy ever after, but I could imagine it sometimes. Yet, they always seem to contain a little piece of how scared I was all the time.

Yet, I stood there in horror, tears spilling out as I watched them destroy who I was. It was like they were ripping my own heart out as they disregarded me as a person. I was nothing to them. I was nothing to everyone. That's when he leans close again and whispers in my ear, "You're a nobody that deserves to die but since my plaything ran away thanks to you," he runs a hand over my wet cheek, "you'll be my new plaything and watching you crumble every day is a lot more satisfying than fucking her with my dad. I had to share then, but you'll be all mine."