Prom Hell

Chapter Tres

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(It's unedited).

Chapter Three:

Prom is two days away, I’ve gotten my dress with Danielle. It’s nothing much but it’s good enough for me. The gossip is still continuing and so far I have became Facebook famous because of the crap people are talking about me, that stupid photo too. People from around the world have two opinions, one is that they feel bad for me and the other is that I deserve it. 

It is Wednesday, and I didn’t go to school today because I've been getting trash thrown at me. I'm serious when I say this. Actual trash from the garbage thrown at me. Katie’s rumor has got everyone curious if I am actually pregnant with Jimmy’s child. I’m called a whore and slut. Disgust in everyone’s eyes, expect my family and true friends. Avril has turned into one of TWC (girl version). She’s telling Katie secrets about me. I cannot believe her.

I officially hate myself.

Vincent found out, I left my laptop on the kitchen table with my account logged into Facebook. He saw the picture, and what people are saying about me. He told Caleb, and Charlie. But dad remains unknown from the issue. Vincent called the school, reported to them. The teachers attempted all they can to halt the gossip but they can’t stop them. I am crying all nights, and days ever since. 

Vincent holds me, and tells me I don’t have to go back if I don’t want to. But I have to. I can’t miss school. I’m a junior, soon to be senior. It’s almost over too, so I guess I won’t suffer for a long time.

I sneaked out to unwind because more little kid embarrassing pictures of me with cruel captions are posted on Facebook. Derrick saw them, and knows who Katie got them from. 

Mom.

He called her, cursed her name. All my brothers are pissed at my mom but my dad still doesn’t know. He will determine it someway or another, and I know that Caleb can’t keep his mouth shut forever. Him and dad are really close. Less than two weeks ago I began to get bullied.

Tears are coming down my eyes, and I feel myself numb unable to move. I’m not sitting at the typical swing, instead I’m on the grass watching the lake. It is pasted midnight but I don’t care. 

More tranquil. 

My phone has been vibrating with messages of hate, messages of support, prank calls of hate, calls of supports. But I don’t want to answer them. I want to be left alone, and I want to remain alone. 

Tears trickle down my warm cheeks. 

I can’t seem to move.

I'm numb.

I hear someone approaching me, I think it’s Mateo. He’s around here all the time, and talks to me whenever I come to the park past midnight. I suppose that he has transformed into a close friend of mine with his advice to keep my chin up. 

Arms are wrapped around from behind me.

Still unable to move, I want to bellow at Mateo to let me go or I’ll punch his nut-sack with such force that he’ll have to get an operation to get a vagina because a penis will never fit him. But the musk that fills my nostrils isn't the similar one to Mateo’s cigarette fragrance.

It’s a lemon lavender smell.  

It’s familiar but I can’t seem to motion myself to turn around to see who it is. The person is obviously a male, brawn arms are wrapped around. The person has a leather jacket on. The person ducks his head to his lips are pressed close to my ear. “Life goes on.”