Spoken Like A Ninth Grader : A High-school Original Story

Spoken Like A Ninth Grader

Chapter 1: School's Out
I lay in the tub, slits within my left and right wrists, and bath water up to my chin. I grabbed the glass of cranberry juice next to the bath tub and drank the whole glass.
"This is it," I told myself.
     Tears streamed down my face and the taste of salt made its way to my lips. I knew in my head I wanted this to be over, but is this really the way to do it ?
"No time for questions," I reminded myself.
   I heard my mothers voice from downstairs calling and begging to know where I was. With no regrets ahead, I took my last breath and seeped under the bath water. This was the only way out, I told myself , and I'm glad I took it. Finally, I was in peace.

~FOUR YEARS EARLIER~

       "My life sucks ok it does, and I don't know if I'm ready to walk away from eighth grade knowing I'm going into something totally brand new," I told my friend Eyanna on the phone.
        "Well you knew this day was coming, and so did I , but our big day is tomorrow and I need some sleep," said Eyanna in response. We both said goodbye and hung up the phone. Eyanna going to bed, and me still lying wide awake on the downstairs sofa. Eighth grade year was a good and bad experience for me. Good, because I made really good friends, bad because I lost some also. Just a month ago my best friend Deseree was expelled for the rest of the school year because she brought liquor to school. At the time, I thought it was cool that she had did it, and I even drank some myself. I cried for weeks when I found out she wasn't going to be at eighth grade graduation, but I found a way to cope with it. That way of coping was dating her. Yes I get it, me and her are best friends, but you only live once. I pointed myself in the direction of the fridge to find something to drink. When I had found some orange soda to quench my thirst, I closed the fridge and my mothers face welcomed me on the other side.
"What are you still doing up ?" My mom had asked me.
"I was on the phone, late night conversation with Eyanna about tomorrow," I said.
"Well, get to bed, I love you. Don't forget to iron your clothes and brush your teeth," my mom replied. She gave me a kiss and then disappeared up the stairs. I followed my moms orders and went upstairs to my room. I prepared my outfit for the following day, lime-green button down shirt with black sweater and white pants. After I admired my outfit for at least ten minutes, I brushed my teeth and went to bed. I said my prayers in routine to every night, praying to God that tomorrow comes and I get a final goodbye with my friends. I slowly drift into deep sleep and find myself in the same dream I have every night.
"Get off of me!" I scream. "Get off of me." Nothing happens. My attacker continues to hit me and pull at my clothes, yelling at me as he does so. I try to kick and punch my way out of his grasp, but his grip just gets tighter and tighter. I get hit in my forehead one good time with the top of his knuckles and I slip into a small concussion. All I can feel after is something inside me that shouldn't be there, squeezing and invading it's way deeper inside. I try to scream and call for help, but I see his black hand has been pressed against my lips. Sweat drips down my body and so does my attackers hand.
He then asks me "Do you like it? Huh? You like it?" I try to scream, and that was a mistake because I felt him dig deeper inside of me and etch a scratch into the back of me. At this, I scream loudly and wake up with a jolt. I notice it is now morning time and my phones alarm has been ringing for ten minutes now. What impresses me the most about my repetitive nightmare is that it always ends at the same part. I scream, he invades me deeper and harder, and then he cuts me. It's no secret to me that at age seven I was raped one late night when I was supposed to be at a sleepover, but it's still hard to confront. I never talk about my rape because I don't feel the need to and it's not important. I was seven, and now I'm fourteen. It happened seven years ago and I refuse seven years later to let it consume me. Being raped isn't my reality, but today's eighth grade graduation is. I rush on my shirt and pants with matching bow tie, and go to brush my teeth and also wash my face. After all my beauty work is done, I board the bus. The school bus is one of the most annoying places for me. For one, I naturally just hate human beings, two the kids on my bus are nothing like me, and three today just isn't a day to be happy. I've been at KMS for all three years of my middle school career and I've learned so much. The only thing I haven't learned, is how to move on. Move on from past loves, or even move on from past friends, or even how to move on from my past. Today I'll say goodbye to all my really good friends who've always been there for me, and nothing prior to this day could've prepared me for it. I get out of my seat and walk off the bus to begin my dreadful day.
"Nii," a person calls from behind me. Nii is short for Nylockee, which is my name. I turn around to see who has summoned me, and the person who it is surprises me. Tyler. Tyler was a guy whom I had somewhat of a bond with, and I don't mean friendship wise. Two days ago Tyler and I were on the bus, and he gave me his most prized possession....his butt. His butt was like soft pillows filled with the finest cotton and he was letting me enjoy every aspect of it. I snapped into conversation with Tyler immediately trying to figure out why he had called my name.
"I just wanted to say goodbye, you know just in case I don't get to after the ceremony is all over," Tyler had said.
"Well, goodbye Ty. I'll miss you," I replied in a sad undertone. After our goodbyes were said, we embraced each other in a tight hug, and he slid my hand over his left butt cheek. We promised we wouldn't do things in terms of touching ever again, but given it was the last day of school that rule was tossed to the side. I parted ways with Tyler and silently made my way into my homeroom. Time had obviously been against us today because homeroom had came and gone, and before all of us eighth graders had knew it , we were in the auditorium. It was time for students to be called to the stage to accept awards. So, homeroom after homeroom had been called until the speaker called my homeroom. Since no one in my homeroom had a last name with an A or B, I was first with the last name of C.
"Nylockee Castuar, A honor roll for the year, perfect attendance award for the year, presidents award, most improved math student, and most improved science student," called the speaker. I walked across the stage quickly, shook all the principals' hands, and made my way to my seat. The rest of my homeroom was called, and so were the last two homerooms of the ceremony. A girl named Rajunai had now been called to do some hasty speech about our big transition into high school, and then a video began to play. The ceremony ended with most of the eighth grade class crying and clapping in awe, and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I was crying uncontrollably and I wanted it to stop. So, I found my mother, left the building, and went home. School was out, and summer could finally begin.