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Friday 12th September, 2016. 2 weeks until Sounds Live Feels Live World Tour.

First Break, and I'm in my usual place. Behind the sports hall, by the recycling bins filled with old cardboard boxes, fag butts and old gum litter the badly paved path. The sky is heavy, dark rain clouds pressing down on the air around me. God, this place is such a shit hole. I fucking hate it here. This exam machine. Kids go in, are stamped with a letter which would apparently affect the rest of their existence, then they are churned out like shit into the sewers. And what was the point? So that we could get jobs that make us hate ourselves, working from 9 until 5 sitting behind a desk staring into the pixels on the screen in front of us. Our mind that was once filled with emotions and stories, to be taken over by faxes and fucking paperclips. It's all so stupid. And yes, I am aware that this is the typical teenage angst of a 15 year old girl, but its true, and those who deny it are lying to themselves.

My thoughts are interrupted by the bell, signifying the start of period 3. I flick my cigarette to the floor, crushing it with the heel of my shoe, and make my way around the back of the gym. Cautiously, I sneak around the corner into the busy junction. Left to sciences and maths, right to languages, straight onto creatives. I have maths. I try and join the flow of the people. I trip over some bag lying by the corner, and fall flat onto my face. My nose scrapes against the harsh gravel, and i start to feel the warm liquid pouring out and onto the stones. My hands start to sting intensely, and I could feel my heart beat in my finger tips.

I hear feet jog toward me, i open my eyes to identify the shoes. Trainers. Specifically blue Asics. Mr Davis.

'Well, well, well. Miss Daisy. What were you doing behind the gym?' the sarcastic sympathy in his voice was evident, and you could hear his smug smile in his tone. He bends down, and for a second, i think he might help me up. But no, he grabbed something by my pocket. My cigarettes.

Oh fuck.

'Oh Daisy. I thought you were better than this...' He says, pocketing the box, and grab my arm. He yanks me up to my feet, and now i see the small crowd staring to grow around us. I depserately look for Marcus, but he isn't there. He would be the only person who would save me right now, and he isn't here.

The blood gushing from my nose has smeared across my face and neck, and dribbles down to my uniform. I feel the purple bruise spreading around my eye, tender to the touch. Im a fucking mess. Mr Davis is still holding onto my arm, my pack of smokes in the other hand, being help up for the crowd to see.

'This kids, is what failure looks like. When we tell you not to smoke, we mean it. This is the effect of smoking.' He says, shaking my shoulder, making me whimper.

'Now go to your lessons. Now!' He bends to spit in my ear. 'You nasty piece of shit. You're going down for this.' He drags me down the path towards the P.E office, so fast that my feet start to drag across the ground,my bag lazily hanging off of my shoulder. My eyes hang low, ashamed. Scared of anybody else seeing me like this, in this state.

'Daisy?' I hear a familiar voice. 'DAISY!' He shouts again. Its Marcus. He starts to run after me, craning his neck over the herd of teenagers to get to me, the struggle obvious from his expression of urgency. He shouts again, and Mr Davis shoves me through the glass doors to the centre. I try to look for him, to see him, but its too late. I try to twist out of Mr Davis' grip, grabbing hold of the door handle, my blood smearing across the glass. But again, he tugs at my arm, forcing me into the office.

I slump into the chair, having him behind his desk. I look down, at the brown blood drying into the corners of my fingernails, the dark wet patches on my jumper, the strong taste of iron on my tongue from the blood smeared onto my lips. Mr Davis starts to shout, pointing at me, the spit spurting out from his filthy mouth to land across my face as he curses and swears. You'd think that somebody would hear his profanities and rush to my aid, but no. The P.E Department are spineless, even the head mistress wouldn't stand up to Mr Davis, he has the whole school at his command.

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