Nadine's Stuck.

ONE

[TW (TRIGGER WARNING): SELF HARM!!]

Nadine's POV:

Silent sobs escape me. I'm so sick. Sick of everything. I need it to stop. I need the world to stop running just for a moment so I can catch my breath.

Despite myself, I can't help but reach for the intrinsic razor blade that I stole out of a sharpener, hidden beneath the clothes in my second dresser drawer. 

There's a little monster in my wrist, scratching to get out. I need to help it out. 

I need to cut it out. 

Cut it all out. The venom, the poison, the everything.

The blade slides across my wrist, a little red line appearing. The blood doesn't immediately flow, the cut not deep enough to leave a scar this time. 

Of course it isn't - I'd never cut too deep with my mother sleeping so close in the house. I don't think I want to die. Dying is permanent; scary. My thoughts swirl, constantly contradicting each other. Living is too tragic, yet so is death. I don't want to live. I don't want to be the burden of grief.

My tears droop my eyelids, making them heavy and harder to resist the need for sleep. Yet another night of crying myself to sleep, it is.

. . .

The next morning, I wake up to both my mom shaking me and birds singing a tune I'll never feel familiar with. "Nadine, wake up!" My mom slices through their song, a voice with the warmth of a hug.  My eyes flutter open.

I groan, sitting up as I rub my eyes. My mom,  seeing that I'm awake, walks out of the room, slippers dragging across the floor.

The door clicks shut, and I pull my sleeve up. I stare at the new cut. It hurts. 

Of course it does. 

I'm cutting myself. Cutting myself like a little idiot, too scared to ask for help. What would Mom say if she found out? Why? If I told her, it'd break her heart.

[End of TW]

My mind scolds itself as I walk over to my closet and grab my school uniform. I dress, brush my teeth, and throw my brown hair into two pigtails. 

I leave for school without breakfast.

. . .

Science is my least favorite class. 

The desks are split into groups of four. I guess that's good. My friend group is of four people - three, if you counted the people who really mattered.

Charlotte walks over with Misha. "Hi, Nadia." Charlotte greets me, slipping into her designated seat beside me. Misha follows her, sitting in the one across.

I nod back, acknowledging them both. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think Misha and Charlotte were dating, but Misha's gay. That's good, though. He won't say or do anything to me. Not like...God, I hate boys.

Xena enters the classroom, bag barely hanging onto her shoulders. She hurries over and sits down in the only free seat at the table. Xena is very pretty. Slim with long, dark hair, and tall. She's perfect, the definition of it.

Misha, Charlotte, and Xena wander off into a conversation, their words losing me as I space out. I've never really felt like I'm their friend. More like a girl they hang out with because they feel bad for her. How many times has she cried in school this year? Let's see:

Math: Twice.
Gym: Five.
Science: Seven (stupid project-based class).
English: Three.
French: Four.
Art: Zero. (Thank God.)

That gives us a total of...twenty-one! Let's give Nadine the biggest round of applause for being the biggest crybaby known to man! Woo! We all hate you, Nadia!

The teacher interrupts the imaginary, loud clapping. "Alright, class, I have a very important announcement today." Mrs. Lavoy's tone is commanding, grabbing the attention of everyone in class. A few groan at the revelation, assuming it's something negative.

 Mrs. Lavoy ignores them, continuing. "The school has started a new program. As you may or may not know, the school has been building a dormitory, which is why the third floor was strictly forbidden up until now. Unfortunately, there are not as many dorms as students, so students will be paired together."

A few students look at their friends, excitedly.

"Now, now, before you make assumptions, you will not be pairing with your friends."

Groans echo through the classroom, and Mrs. Lavoy rolls her eyes, hand placed sternly at her hip. 

I bite my lip, not vocal, but still not a fan of the idea. Being stuck with a complete stranger? 

What if I get stuck with...him? 

No way. No thanks. I hope I get my own dorm room.

"Me and the other staff have discussed amongst each other and decided on a few...troubled freshmen who will be paired with seniors. I--"

"You mean the stupid ones?" Xavier, a notoriously annoying basketball player, interrupts.

"No, Xavier. I mean students who need a bit of extra help, like yourself," she quips.

The class giggles, and his friends push his shoulder, teasing him and laughing a little louder than the rest.

"I will read out the names that have been chosen." Ms. Lavoy clears her throat, grabbing a paper from her desk, preparing to read.

Please not me. Please do not let my name be on that list.

Mrs. Lavoy calls off names for a few minutes. Luckily, my name has not been called yet, and hopefully won't be. A few students roll their eyes when their name get called, others exchange excited looks with their friends, excited to meet a cool senior.

"And last but not least...Nadine."

It feels like the whole class turns at looks at me, but in reality, it's just a few. A few beady little eyes staring into my soul before turning back to the people at their table. It takes me a moment to even comprehend what Mrs. Lavoy said.

Fuck.

. . .

Original Word Count: 774!
1st Round of Editing Word Count: 964!