ILY SOPHIA. AND RILEY WOULDNT SHUT THE FUK UP ABOUT ME POSTING.
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I nod at the boy and turn back around, walking to the teachers desk to retrieve my bag.
"Meow!", I hear someone call behind me, as I bend down to get my bag.
I snap back up quickly and turn around, spotting the voice.
"MeOW as in OW my eyes!", He adds, his clear blue eyes dancing with humor and his lips spread out in a wide smirk. The class is silent for a minute before bursting out into laughter. Some girls are looking at Louis with affection and admiration. And some are looking at him with pure love and joy.
I brush a piece of fallen hair back behind my ear, and scurry over to my desk in front of the rude boy.
I feel my back being poked repeatedly.
Some with fingers and some with the sharp ends of pencils.
I try to ignore them, but as I'm feeling the slight pressures on my lower back, my mind wanders to old memories.
Terrible memories..
It was my first day of coming back to school-
with slits on my wrists.
And I did a terrible job of covering them up. I didn't even try. In fact, I was probably exposing my arm more then I normally would. I was wearing a plain back tank top, black jeans, and black converse. I remember distinctly having jet black, dyed hair, cut into a fringe covering my eyes, making me flip my hair every 2 seconds. I was 'eating' my lunch alone when someone came to my table. It was Kylee Morrin and Kesha Kilman. I was really used to them throwing my meal onto the floors, and calling me fat, so no need to eat in the first place. I had my hand laying flat on the table, showing my cuts.
"Haha, oh my god, look!", Kylee grabbed my hand, pulling it back, pushing my wrist out.
Kesha burst out laughing, holding her stomach.
"Oh my- that's precious!", She said in the midst of her seizure.
Kylee throws my hand back at me and shoves my shoulder.
"Attention whore! No one cares haha. So really, you're just hurting yourself here, you emo bitch.", She smirks.
Even though she was my bully, I agreed with her.
I'm just hurting myself, and no one cares. No one.
I come back from my flash back and arch my back slightly when someone pokes their pencil into my back a little too hard.
I pull my hands under my desk, and rest it on my thighs.
I grab my bag from off the floor and rest it on my knees, and under the bottom of the desk, blocking the teachers view.
I pull my bracelets bag and look my marks, cringing slightly.
Some lines were old, and some lines were new.
Some lines were fresh and some lines were scars.
Some lines were deep and some lines were light.
Some lines were short and some lines went almost all the way around.
My mind gets filled back up with words that people have called me.
Some words that took years to get out of my head, were back so quickly and easily.
And more painful then ever.
I traced my thumb over them, before digging my nail into one, re opening the wound.
