Bullied

Chapter 2 ~ I hate

ϟ ~ ϟ Chapter 2 ϟ ~ ϟ

I slowly stepped into the bathtub wincing in pain. Waking up sore is one thing. Waking up sore and with your little brother jumping on all of your hurt parts is a whole new chapter. I wasn’t even able to let a small breath escape my mouth. I seriously thought it would be my last minutes on Earth.

Fortunately, it is Saturday and I got to sleep till 10am instead of getting up at 6. Weekends are just a gift. I’m so thankful they exist. I don’t even know what I’d be doing without them. I really need these 2 days to relax because I hate school. And I don’t have to make up excuses as to why I hate it, because my reason is just reasonable.

“Irina! Finish up. I want you to go to the grocery store.” My mom yelled at me from downstairs the moment I exited the bathtub. In just half an hour I got dressed and dried most parts of my hair while putting them in a messy bun. I never actually let them down (at least in public). I either wear beanies, which is exactly what I did now, or put them up in buns.

I walked downstairs and saw my mom sitting on the counter in the kitchen, probably writing a list of the items she wants me to go buy.

“Morning ma.” I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning honey. Hey, do you mind taking Chris with you? Your dad and I need to go visit your grandma.”

“No I don’t. How is grannie holding?” I asked concern obvious in my voice. She sighed and passed me the small piece of paper containing the list.

“She’s… trying. You know she’s a warrior. She’ll be fine.” She answered slowly probably attempting to reassure herself more than me. I just nodded my head without saying anything else.

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“Chris, stop adding items in the cart. They won’t fill in the car.” I scolded the little toddler but he didn’t even hear me. He just ignored me once again and put the Kinder Bueno in the cart. I swear sometimes is like talking to a wall with this kid.

If you’re wondering, yes I have my own car. Though, I only use it outside of school. I won’t risk driving to school with it. Everybody in there hates me. If they find out I have a car, I don’t even want to know what they’ll do to it.

Eventually, Chris was done (after buying the whole store). We exited the huge building and started walking towards the parking lot.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” I stopped dead in my tracks after hearing the familiar voice. “Oh and she brought a little friend along.” I quickly tightened my grip on my brother’s hand and turned around to confirm my thoughts.

Ricky. One of the bad boys and in Chase’s gang. I gulped when I saw him approaching and I carefully took a few steps back. He didn’t stop though and when he was close enough he went to grab Chris but I stopped him midway. He turned his head to look at me obviously mad and annoyed by my actions.

Good.

Focus on me.

“What now? You want to get beat up instead of him?” I nodded my head at him and pushed Chris gently behind me. Thank God he was smart enough to go hide behind the car, which I now noticed was mine. “Well, this should be fun.” I let the shopping bags on the ground and was soon met face to face with them. “What do you have to say now, bitch?” Ricky yelled kicking my stomach. “Do you still want to protect that little rat?” his voice was louder as he repeatedly kicked and punched every part of my body. And by every part, I mean every part. I probably have a nose bleed and an already black eye. I was screaming and crying in pain that I didn’t even notice him leaving. I was about to pass out when I felt tiny, soft hands touching my now laying, lifeless hand. I tried smiling but failed miserably and attempted to at least get into a sitting position.

“I’m so sorry Chris.” I apologized and got a tissue out of my bag wiping the blood out of my face. “It won’t happen again, I swear.” I hugged him tight and slowly stood up putting the shopping bags in the car. After I secured him on the backseat, I made my way to the driver’s seat. What kind of grocery store is this? It’s 12pm and the parking lot is full with cars yet no one managed to stop Ricky from beating me up in front of my brother? My young, little brother?

Who even lets something like this happen?! Now Chris may have nightmares or something like childhood traumas.

God, I hate society.

Getting in the car and wiping the tears that keep running down my cheeks I started the engine. “I’m so sorry Chris.”

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I was relieved that my parents weren’t home yet, so they wouldn’t get to see me in this mess, but I also was worried about grandma.

“C’mon Chris.” I said once I’ve fed him. “Time for your after-lunch nap.” Instead of me taking him to his room, he dragged me into it. I took off his clothes and helped him change into his pj’s and put him bed. He hugged me tight and kissed my cheek, catching me off-guard and then he wrapped himself under the covers. I smiled at him weakly and walked out of his room closing the door behind me. Sighing I walked into the bathroom and checked how bad was my face.

A gasp escaped my lips after witnessing the person in front of me.

That is not me.

That can’t be me.

My parents are going to freak. I need to fix this.

I took off my clothes and took a quick 10 minute shower. After changing into presentable clothes I got the rubbing alcohol, or fire water, or liquor, or however they call it, and put some on my nose and eye.

HOLY.FUCK.

I tried fanning my face but the tears rolled down anyways. I ran out of the bathroom and into the kitchen opening the refrigeration and grabbing some ice.

“This needs to be done.”

I told myself.

“You’ll be fine.”

I kept murmuring.

“Just put this on and BAM! done.”

Taking a deep breath I placed the ice on my face.

“IIISHHHH!” I winced and winced in pain but didn’t remove it.

I hate my life.

I hate feeling weak.

I hate feeling embarrassed.

I hate feeling ashamed.

I hate feeling worthless.

I hate feeling lost.

I hate feeling scared.

I hate feeling hurt.

I hate feeling pain.

I hate being pushed around.

I hate being kicked when I’m down.

I hate my body.

I hate my face.

I hate my eyes.

I hate my nose.

I hate my arms.

I hate my legs.

I just hate me.