Dear bully,
You called me fat again. I weighed myself. 88lb. I started to cry when I saw that number. I hate myself. I pulled out a knife.
They might see my wrist but, they won't ask to see my thighs. So I cut. I cut lines and than crossed over those so it looked like squares.
When I finished I threw up and pulled on sweat pants.
YOU ARE READING
Dear bully (COMPLETED)
Short StoryAs the time goes by her smile does too. A constant frown is its replacement. Tears. Hurt. Pain. Words. Is that her only fate ?
