Billie Eilish and her daughter imagines

Amelia struggle

Amelia 15yo

(TW SH)

Amelia pov
The school hallway buzzed with the usual morning chaos. Lockers clanged open and shut, laughter and chatter filled the air, and students hurried to their first classes. I navigated the familiar path to my locker, my hoodie pulled tightly around me. It hid the marks on my arms, the ones no one knew about. Sleep had been elusive again last night, my mind trapped in a relentless cycle of intrusive thoughts. I felt like I was walking through a fog, barely there.

As I spun the combination lock, the voices behind me grew louder. I tensed, recognizing the tones before I heard the words. The clique of girls who took a particular interest in me—though not for any genuine reason—approached. They thrived on rumors and drama, and today seemed no different.

"Hey, Amelia," one of them called out, her voice saccharine sweet.

I turned slowly, bracing myself. "Hi," I replied, trying to sound indifferent.

"Is it true?" she asked, eyes wide with feigned concern. "We heard your mom is pregnant with some random guy's baby."

The world seemed to tilt for a moment. I felt a rush of anger and humiliation. "What? No, that's not true."

Another girl chimed in, her tone equally insincere. "Are you sure? Because everyone is talking about it. It must be really tough for you, with your mom always in the spotlight like that."

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. "My mom isn't pregnant. People just like to make stuff up."

"Well, it's not like it would be the first time she's had some scandal, right?" the first girl continued, her smile widening. "But if she is, you'd tell us, right? I mean, we're your friends."

"Friends?" The word felt like a joke. "You don't care about me. You just want gossip."

The smiles faltered, replaced by narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "We're just trying to be nice," she said defensively. "No need to be so touchy."

They turned away, their laughter fading into the background noise of the hallway. I stood there, my heart pounding, my hands shaking. The rumor would spread, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The humiliation and frustration washed over me in waves.

The bell rang, snapping me out of my daze. I grabbed my books and headed to class, feeling the weight of every stare as I walked. Each whisper felt like a knife, cutting deeper into wounds that were already raw.

In class, I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept drifting back to the hallway. I felt trapped, suffocated by the relentless scrutiny and the lies. The teacher's voice was a distant murmur, the words blurring together.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. I found a quiet corner in the cafeteria, hoping to escape the constant barrage of looks and whispers. As I sat down, pushing my food around on my tray, I felt the darkness creeping back in, a reminder of the endless battle I fought each day.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I moved through the motions, my mind elsewhere. The rumor was already spreading, and I could feel the judgment in every glance, every hushed conversation. By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to collapse.

The walk home felt like a marathon. Each step was heavy, the weight of the day pressing down on me, suffocating me. I kept my head down, hoping to avoid any more confrontations or whispers. The moment I stepped through the front door, I forced a smile and called out, "I'm home!" hoping my voice didn't betray how exhausted and broken I felt.

"Hi, honey," my mom called back from the kitchen. "How was school?"

"Fine," | lied, making a beeline for the stairs. "Just a lot of homework. I'm going to go start on it."