Classes droned on, and so did the first few weeks. During those times, John and I seemed to be getting really close, he had been texting me day and night, started calling me sweetie, asked for secrets, spent time with me. It was all so new. Even Aunt Clarissa was so surprised when he showed up at her door and asked to see me! All was great, until one day; John was not at my locker as usual. Instead, one of his friends, Matt, came up to me and placed a note into my locker, and disappeared into the crowd. Flustered, I grabbed the note and showed it into my bag, and hurried to class.
When my teacher finished with the notes for the day and granted us work or free time, I shuffled through my bag and found the note, which looked as though someone had crumpled it, flattened it out, and then re-crumpled it quite a few times. The note itself was obviously re-written too, smudged words and ink stains.
The note was from John.
“My dearest Alana, my lovely Shimmer. I cannot see you anymore. I have been put in quarantine, due to a rare love disease I seem to have contracted. I’ll be gone two weeks; I and then I’ll be back in school but please do not try to talk to me. I will just ignore you. My friends are threatening to dump me from their group and I cannot you lose my image. I’m sorry, Alana. “
I read and re-read the note during that class. It made me late for period two.
He was done with me. And here I thought he actually cared. But no, his image and his popularity were far more important than the lowly little outcast girl. As I read the message for the 400th time, I saw a message. A hidden message. The message said I love you and his personal phone number. This message wasn’t him, it couldn’t have been. He told me he’d never give up on me and he knew my struggles. Since talking to my dearest John, I had become happy, way less depressed. How it was all over so suddenly I do not know, and I may never find out.
Without John in my life anymore I found myself yearning for something, for someone to talk to me, which has never happened before, and I fell back into my depression, started cutting again. Scars and cuts and bruises sparkled my skin. Burns starterd glittering here and there now too. Lifew went downhill, worst than normal.
I started skipping, and on days that I did go I would see John around and he wouldn’t even look at me and that made things worse.
I sat at home now, my guardians understanding, knowing the tiniest thing can set me off, they figured it was just a phase like all the other times I hit rock bottom. This time was different though. Normally I'd have my "low" week, but I'd be able to pull myself back into functioning, but I could not do it. I couldn't escape. John had hit me hard. He had made me believe that people could be compassionate, could be real. That I wouldn't be alone forever. But it was all a alie, as always.
Or so I thought.
Matt Carson was the one who handed me the note, the one who sent me to my personal hell. He was now spreading rumours, and from what I could tell he was keeping John from seeing me, from the random texts I would get off a random number signed John. I gothundreds of texts on a daily basis, calling me names unimaginable to most. Matt Carson seemed to want me to die.
