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The sting as my hair was pulled strongly, hurting worse than I could bare. "Please stop!" I cry out. She smiles at me slyly, enjoying my pain, just making her stronger, giving her more ideas to break me.

I thought I was already broken. Obviously not.

Like a rag doll, I'm pushed and thrown to the wall of the hallway. Thanking god as I was thrown towards a wall, not lockers. Lockers hurt the most.

"Please." I plead in a whisper.

Laughing rings in my ears and I cringe at her distasteful smirk. My mouth is filled with a gross concoction of soap and whatever it is she had made for lunch. I gag on the taste.

"Good luck," The laughing dies down when she finds her way out of the building. I press my hand, palm on the ground, lifting my weight off the ground. I stumble to stand on both feet but manage. My legs tremble as I wash out the disturbance that had filled my mouth.

For some reason, I feel disappointed. I not sure exactly why though. Maybe I thought that someone would come again. Even though I have told myself over and over, repeating it occasionally not to get my hopes up, I still managed to.

* * *

Stumbling over my feet as I walk out the door. My feet dragging underneath me. I don't bother to pick them up and walk properly. I've given up. My shoulders are limp, not straight like they should be. I don't bother to straighten up. I just want to get home, safe and sound.

As I walk in the house, I rush to make it to my room. I don't want to see my mother's face after what I said. I still think I was dreaming the situation, but I know better. I wish I hadn't said something so blunt to her face, but at the same time, I don't want to change a thing I said. She needs to know that what she was trying to do was wrong.

I agree with myself that I would go and grab something to eat for dinner. I stop on the stairs and turn back around. I plead that my mother was nowhere in sight. I walk into the kitchen and it's clear. I feel like I had a child on my shoulders, and I was given the gift of them being taken off. I silently thank 'god' and tend to my duties.

I took a croissant and a bottle of water. I'm not all that hungry today. This will do, I think to myself.

* * *

Dear diary,

Sometimes I wish I wasn't on this earth anymore... There I admitted it. If this doesn't give you a hint on who I am, then you might not be from around here. I'm Anna. The school loser, the one you see in the hall and laugh at for being different. You may be wondering why I never stand up for myself, it wasn't always this way... But after so long, you just give up. The verbal abuse is just one of the many things I get on a daily basis, the worst I might say, is the physical abuse. When they push me up against the lockers, or when my body comes in contact with their fists or feet. I know why. I'm a loser, I'm pathetic, I'm messed up, I'm not normal, I'm me. I wish there was at least one person I could confide in, one person that would step up to them, tell me I'm not garbage.

I rock in my chair, contorting my face in concentration. That was a good entry for the day...

I set my chair back down and push it out, allowing me to get up from the seat. I push it back in giving me access to my bed. I lay down and sigh. What a day.

I can't help from thinking about what if?

What if I was pretty? What if my name wasn't Anna? What if I had friends? What if that boy really does care? What if others care? What if I'm not the only one going through this? What if it doesn't get better like they advertise? What if I don't make it?

I know I shouldn't think this way, but I can't help myself.

What if?

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