Tortured

Chapter One

Chapter 1: My Holy Apparatus

Friday night. A night for high school parties and alcohol. Maybe getting drunk and puking in a neighbor's bushes. You know, normal teenaged stupidity.

"Night, Victoria." Mom says as she peaks into my room. "Don't stay up all night working on homework or writing. Okay?"

I merely nod my head and turn back to working on my Ethics paper. I hear my door click shut and I let out a sigh. There is nothing that I hate more than nightly check ups. I'm not a child. She won't find me checking under my bed and in my closet for monsters so she won't have to comfort me and say that they are not real. I know they are, but they just are not the monsters that she would think.

Plus, I doubt that she even knows about my school life so she's not checking up nightly on that. Somehow, I've kept that a secret for years. I cover bruises and bumps with whatever I can and when I can't, I blame PE.

From over the years of blaming various exercise equipment for scratches, bruises, and everything else, my mother thinks that if I so much as touch athletic equipment that I'll die.  Frankly, it's quite amusing to see her take away exercise balls, basketballs, footballs, jump ropes, yoga mats (don't ask), dodge balls (oh the horror!), and many others all throughout my years. She tries so hard to keep me safe from harm when, in actuality, she sends me into harms way five times a week and one hundred eighty times a year.

I sigh and close my eyes and lean back in my desk chair. I don't think that I'll be able to finish editing my paper tonight. Maybe I can just go to bed and dream about... I don't know. Knowing me, probably doing something violent to the jack*ss book characters that I hate. Yeah. I'm talking to you. Peter from Divergent.

I sigh again as I slap my Ethics notebook closed and drag myself over to my bed. I flop down face first with my head in the pillow. I stay there for a few minutes until I can't breath and that's when I lift my head up and roll over.

Staring at the ceiling, I begin to think about my week, as I always do on Friday nights. This, for me, is about as much party as I get. Sad, I know.

Monday:
I got tripped twenty three times and my Technology PowerPoint was stolen. With them stealing my flash drive, I also lost my Health paper. Oh, fun! I get to rewrite the most awkward and uncomfortable paper of my life. Yay me!

Tuesday:
Gym class. I got hit in the face with a tennis racket which gave me a bloody nose. Luckily, I got out of Health class.

Wednesday:
Surprisingly. Nothing. The as*holes were too focused on a football game coming up to worry about torturing me.

Thursday:
Gym class...with yoga mats. I hate the person that thought of those. Really, yoga mats are my enemy! I hate them whole heartedly and they hate me just as much.

Friday:
I got slammed into a locker, guy punched me at least fifteen times in the stomach if not, more and someone thought that it would be funny to light my extra Gym clothes on fire as I was making up a previously missed class.

That isn't too bad. I think to myself. I could have been acquainted with the inside of a toilet bowl over and over like I was is seventh grade. One gigantic reason never to report bullying.

At least, I survived. I'm still here and as long as I am they haven't completely ruined my life, I can't complain too much. But it's Senior year and lots of things will change after graduation and when I go off to college. Hopefully, I won't know anyone at my new start. At my new school, after this year, I hope to be done with all the torture and sh*t I've been put through.

I'm a human being. Why would you do this to a fellow human being? Why would you make another human being's life so terrible that they commit suicide? What could possibly drive you to do something so...so...there isn't a strong enough word for how...terrible bullying is.

I feel something hot sliding down the sides of my face and I knew that I've nearly had enough. I have nearly had all I can take. I know that sometime soon maybe not now, maybe not as soon as a week but someday I will break. Someday I will make sure that the as*holes that bullied me and every other non popular person knows how much they affected each and every one of us.

Someday they will shed tears of regret knowing that they made at least one person's life worse than a living h*ll.

That is the day that I wait for. The day that keeps me from cutting and committing the worst and final act of giving up. The day that the bullies know how...how...demented and messed up they were when they thought that I, and many others, were considered as nothing more than a bunch of piles of sh*t for them to throw on a neighbor's door step and light on fire. Too lowly to have them give us a chance to be more. Not to be them but to be at a social status where we could make a difference.

For me, there is no chance of rising through the ranks of the high school hierarchy to help all the people like me and let's face it, no one else would do the same. Why would they? They would have just gotten out of h*ll so why go back in?

They would befriend the ones that treated them worse than anything. That bullied them until they stared at knives as if they were some...holy apparatus that can save them. They would kick and shove and beat people to a bloody pulp with their old torturers.

College. Basically the only thing that I look forward to. The only thing that can save me. That, is my holy apparatus.

•••
Hey! Not really sure what to say because...well this was a kind of depressing chapter but I hope that later it will get better for Victoria Cross. Don't you?

Comment and tell me what you think!

-TotalNerd23
Originally published: August 12, 2015