savior ≫ z.m. [completed]

1

My alarm goes off, startling me. Blaring like police sirens in my ear, I slam my fist down on the tiny button at the top of the clock and silence it.

I swear it’s going to make me deaf someday.

Today is my first day of senior year. I’m glad this is my last year in this tiny town. The place holds too many bad memories, it’s like I can’t go anywhere without them coming to haunt me.

My name is Callie Montgomery, I’m 17, and I live in small town called Newport on the coast of Oregon.

When I was six, my father got into a car crash involving a drunk driver. He died three hours later with his family next to him. Since then, things haven’t been the same. My mother became an alcoholic, and my 16-year-old little sister, Danielle, ran away from home a year ago. I haven’t heard from my older brother Jake in four years.

To put it simply; my life sucked.

However, things got worse. When I was in my last year of middle school, my best friend and basically sister Abbie committed suicide. I was the one who found her in her bathroom, an empty bottle of medication next to her, a suicide note tucked safely in her cold hand. The words she had written in her all-too familiar messy handwriting sent chills down my spine and will continue to make my blood run cold until the day I die.

That day changed everything for me.

I became depressed, I started cutting my wrists and thighs, and I lost all the other friends I had. I became a different person; Abbie was my anchor, and without her, I was a ship in the sea drifting nowhere.

I was lost. I was alone. I didn’t know what to do with my life. So then begin my rebel stage; I got piercings and a couple of tattoos, I wore black hoodies and dark clothes. I smoked marijuana. I avoided alcohol at all costs, however, because of my father’s death and my mother’s addiction.

At school, I’m lovingly referred to as ‘the depressed girl.’ I go to school because I actually want an education, but I always end up ditching because of the bullies. Who wants to go to school when all people do is judge you and talk behind your back?

The clock reads 7:38, which gives me 20 minutes to get to school. I get up and get dressed in my usual black hoodie and black jeans, converse adorning my feet. I slip on a few rubber bracelets with my favorite band on them to cover up my cuts.

I notice myself in the mirror and take note of the horrible bags under my eyes that come from staying up night after night, thinking, crying, cutting. For a moment, I ponder putting foundation and eye makeup on to cover up my sullen and lifeless face, but there’s no reason to. People will continue to make your life a living hell even if you look decent.

After brushing my teeth and getting ready, I head downstairs and grab a bagel, one of few real foods in the kitchen. The air smells like vomit and beer, as usual.

Glancing at my drunk mother passed out on the couch, I roll my eyes and slam the front door behind me.

The walk to school is typical; quiet, but that’s okay. It gives me time to think, and I like the calm and peace that you get with being on your own.

I like being alone, but I hate being lonely. There’s a difference.

A car horn sounds behind me and a bright red truck sails past me, blowing my hair into my face. The kids in it shout the normal rude things I always get, such as goth, emo, little miss cutter, and more… the list goes on.

“Attentionwhore!” one shouts.

“Nobody fucking likes you, do us all a favor and go back to your room and cut some more!” another yells.

“Damn, I was hoping you committed suicide over summer break,” the driver says just loud enough for me to hear. The truck speeds away, their laughs echoing in my ears.

I feel goose bumps form on my skin, making me stop. The words they said to me today were harsher; they’ve never been this mean to me before.

What have I ever done to deserve this?

Usually I can ignore the things they say, but for some reason, they get to me today. I can feel the filthy words digging into me like needles,  pricking my skin unwillingly, the unwelcome feeling following me for the rest of the way to school.