As The Clock Chimes

Chapter 4: Primary school

This story, truly made to be a sad one, has yet to meet its end. As a start, the person lending me their heart kindly drew what it felt like to live in this hell. She drew the cover page, as she wanted to make this official. She will tell her story until the end.

We are lost in the real world, and we need to delve back into her memory lane.

She was simply excited to no end, vibrating from head to toe, thinking that school would be great and would be the true escape from her hell back home. Or what is supposed to be called home? She was six, a ripe age to start school; she was in what was called a school kindergarten. As she is not originally English-speaking, this is the translation. Or what the adults call this class, or, well, lack of a real school class session.

She discovered where she needed to sit, next to another kid, and that was the reversed color of her porcelain skin. She was so curious—what made her skin so shiny? She liked the color so much that she befriended the beautiful being that was in front of her. The two became inseparable; they did everything together. They were always a team, and they were proud to be together. However, the monster back home wasn't too proud of her punching bag for making friends.

She was almost always at her caramel-skinned fellow; she loved her friend so much that she wanted to run away with her. She was happy living in the woods with her, and so the two planned their escape. However, the two never knew what the future would bring them or what the monster would do to leave her alone forever.

She treated her friend's mother as her own; she listened to her all the time, told her she loved her as a mother, and at times called her mom. As it was a slip of the tongue, the mother didn't care. She was always sitting in the living room; their house was near woods; it was peaceful. She loved seeing them; the friend's father worked in another country, so she almost never saw him. The mother was doing crosswords all day, every day. For her, it was her heaven—a small house in the woods, all alone with one she also kind of considered her daughter.

The first year of school passed, and the little girl, the main character of the story, was transferred to another school simply because there was a new kid getting into the school. She went to hell, to a place where she would wish she had died. There was that person, that repugnant child, who bullied her in kindergarten, right into this school.

She was now alone again, in a place where everyone, even the adults, were out to make her life hell. She was stuck with adults that watched her get punched over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.

However, they stopped the fight when the girl tried to get up, saying she was going to punch the kid who did nothing to her. She was punched in the face, as it was self-defense from the other kids.

She went home bleeding for awhile, hiding her wounds, only for her to get slapped in the face by her monster back home. She lived that cycle from six to eight.

That faithful year. That faithful age. All she remembers is almost dying; she will end the session afterwards, as she told me. It was rather hard for her, and pretty much all she remembers is from when she was eight years old.

She was playing inside, drawing silently in her room. It was the coldest day of winter, around -40 degrees, from what she recalls. She was silent, calm, and doing her own thing that didn't disturb anyone in the house, not even her four-year-old brother.

Her mother, or monster, barged onto her room; she was mad; she smelled like alcohol. She yelled things that the child couldn't comprehend, such as why are you alive and why didn't I abort you? Why didn't you die?, and so on and so forth.

She was forced into her heaviest winter suit; she was confused but complied with anger; she didn't do anything this time. So why was she getting punished for being perfect? She didn't know.

Once she was forced into the suit, the mother pushed her outside. Once she was outside, she heard the door bang, and as she turned around to test the door, it was locked. She was scared, and so she ran all the way around the house to get to the back. The door was unlocked. So it was fine; until she tried it, it was really locked. She was terrified. She spent about two hours trying to get back inside; it's understandable that it's cold outside.

After she wore herself out, she looked around the backyard; the pool was easily accessible. She was going to be able to slide around on the ice! Isn't that going to be much fun?

So she walked through the high snow, reaching for the door, only for it to be locked. She was confused until she looked down. Ah, the lock was frozen over; there was no chance that it would open anytime soon.

She looked at the gate to notice that she could walk around the door and get on the small pool porch. What a joke! There can be a lock on the door, yet she can easily reach the other side without as much as a sweat. A sweep, a step, another step. She was on the other side of the locked door.

Please read the next paragraph and chapters with this warning: you may skip to the author note at the end of the chapter or continue your journey reading. Be warned that this is descriptive to a point, and with this, you agree that you are ready to read the next part of this book. Once forward, you shall not comment about not wanting to read this or that there was no warning.

We thank you, the little girl, and me.

She was sitting at the edge of the water, stomping on the ice. To see if it was solid, she didn't want to fall through the ice, of course, and so she stomped onto the ice, stomping to a beat in her head that only her child self could recall. She decided that it was completely safe. That it was sturdy enough to let her stand, to let her have fun even though she was really cold already.

And so she took her stance, ready to get up.

...

She got ready to give herself the push to get up.

...

She was so thrilled to stand.

...

She couldn't wait to get up.

...

And so she stood up.

...

Only to see sudden...

...

White.

A/N

We thank you for following this journey. She wanted to stop the chapter here; she seems to want to give this book a bit of suspense, just like she felt it. If you so wish, comment on what you think happened.

This book seems to have caught her interest, and so, maybe, you will not have to wait long to read what happens next.

We thank you for giving this a chance and spreading the word. We all know this is not for everyone.

If you have ever lived in or are living in this type of situation or are suspecting this type of behavior from someone, Please do not stay silent. It can be a matter of life and death.

All have a great day or night.