Poison Letters

Chapter 7

-Vote and comment-

Dear you,

"So the function of f..." I was brain dead. My brain no longer functioned in any kind of way. It was just there, as a decoration.

I could've sworn I saw a moose somewhere in the class, or was that just the hallucinations kicking in? Damn.

Some of the class boys were throwing little rolled up pieces of paper at the teacher and were beating on who was going to get it to land in his hair.

Amateurs.

In an effort to revive my already hopeless brain, I excused the teacher to go to the restroom. I got up and exited the classroom sighing in content and happiness. Thank fück.

Lazily, I strolled down the hallway towards the restrooms, taking my sweet time. When I turned a corner, an uncontrollable shiver licked up my spin. I slowed down then came to a complete stop. The whole school had a controlled temperature throughout, that exact spot, though, was about 15 degrees lower than the other places.

I turned around, my eyes wide with confusion as I looked down the empty hallway lined with blue lockers on each side.

My eyes touched everything. They skimmed the endless boring lockers and the blue and white posters hung everywhere. I looked at the class doors that were closed and even the ceiling with it's blinding white fluorescent light.

I turned around in a circle in the same spot and threw my arms around trying to touch anything that might be in the air around me, but there was nothing there.

I wrapped my arms around my body then decided to continue walking to my destination. This time, I was more alert.

When I got to the restroom door, I pushed it open and walked inside heading for the sink. I didn't actually need to use the toilet, I just needed to wake up. Opening the tap, I splashed some freezing cold water onto my face and then looked ahead at the mirror.

I stared. My eyes bore into my own soul as I remembered my father's beatings from last night. I slowly reached for my arm and touched it carefully over the clothes I had on.

I winced and looked down at the sink in front of me. My eyes teared up and it felt like I stuffed a bunch of cotton balls down my throat.

I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes to try and stop the tears from coming. In all honesty, I wanted to hit something.

I wasn't sad. I was angry. Matter of fact, I was furious. I wanted them dead.

I hope something happens to them and they lose their lives. I would be thankful.

I hate them. I hate them so much, it's amazing.

Pure rage filled my heart and my brain was going through several memories of them punishing me for things I didn't do.

I did nothing to deserve this. Absolutely nothing. I was paying for something I didn't do.

I hate this. I hate them.

I saw red.

Like a flash of lighting, things happened so fast I missed them. One second; I was looking down trying to stop the tears from streaming down my face, the next I felt a sharp pain exploded throughout my arm as a shattering noise echoed through the small bathroom.

Fück.

My eyes were wide as I looked at my blood soaked right fist.

I looked up at the mirror and saw pretty veins crawling on its surface. There was a distinct point where all the veins came out from. It was the exact point where my fist connected with the mirror.