Power

Part 1

When people say boarding schools are awesome, fun filled places-you know, with flying unicorns, smiling people and little elves dancing on rainbows-don't believe them. Those people are idiots. And when they try to send you to one of these schools....well, run. BELIEVE ME.

And I'm just talking from the perspective of a girl who just lost (yet another) strand of her hair. And who just spent her entire morning trying to cover up her bruises with foundation. (I mostly failed).

Anyway, I was just thinking about this advice regarding boarding schools that I would just love to give to someone and then I started thinking about all the other things I would like to say. Like, that my bruises aren't caused by my clumsiness, or that I didn't skip math class on purpose last Monday or that no, I haven't eaten lunch for a week and there's a reason why. But even when I'm around my best friends and I open my mouth to say something, It's like there are so many things I want to say that they get clogged down my throat and then drop right down to my stomach, letting me speechless and feeling sick. I just can't get the words out. So I change the subject and pretend that it's all fine.

Right now I'm walking down Ninth Avenue, getting back from school, admiring the buildings, crowded streets and little pastry shops. The air smells like cold and chimney smoke- the smell of November. I feel a cold wind and tighten my hoodie around my neck.

I soon reach the boarding school's door. It's an old building that looks like it's about to collapse. It smells like mold, the walls are stained and during the night we don't really get much heat so I often wake up with a headache and a cold.

 I reach my hand for the door knob, but I pull it back. Another entrance caught my attention. It was a door on the back wall, that I only now noticed. 

"Do we have a basement?" I think to myself.

I approach the entrance, filled with curiosity, and I pull the door knob. To my surprise, it's not locked and I see a stairway. 

A cold wind hits my face as I enter the tight, somewhat dark corridor. I'm not usually scared by basements and that kind of horror movie stuff, but I do get some chills. 

The thought of being kidnapped or attacked does enter my mind, but then I notice that the stairways seems to be used quite often and doesn't even look as abandoned as the boarding school.

"Come on, don't be such a wuss. It's not even 5 pm. Basically the middle of the day. If you can't face your fears then we have a problem"  I tell myself.