Caged Animals (A Story of Bullying)

*Chapter One*

Hey, guys! If you're reading this...thank you so much.  This story really means a lot to me right now, and I'm really enjoying writing it. So if you're reading it, thank you. Bullying is something that I've always been passionate about. I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe this will help someone out. If I could help just one person, that would be all that I need.

EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL.

***

*Chapter One*

I was rudely awakened by my alarm clock beeping incessantly by my side. I groggily sat up, a feeling of dread washing over me. It was the first day of junior year, and the first day of what was known as Evening Wilcox’s Personal Hell.

            The torment had started immediately when Harbor and I switched schools. That was the first year that we went our separate ways: he went to a private school while I chose to attend public school. Unfortunately for me, that was the worst mistake of my life.

            It started out simply enough. A few people made fun of my name, which I was accustomed to. When your full name is Evening Elizabeth Anne Wilcox, you become used to the temporary gawking and whispering. However, no one stopped there. I became an overnight sensation, the beginning of rumors and the subject of laughter. Slowly, the pain of it increased until it became what it was today. Now, I was a caged animal, trapped behind bars, mute as the people outside my cage ridiculed me.

            I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the shower, the pang of anxiety and dread growing with every step. I stood in the shower for what seemed like years, denying my dark world. The steam and pounding water relaxed me; I clung to that feeling as I got dressed and went through the typical, every day motions.

            I tip-toed downstairs, listening hopefully for any sign of life. When I heard none, I sighed. Harbor had already left, and Aunt Rebecca obviously wasn’t back from Paris yet. What she was doing there, no one knew. Aunt Rebecca was careful not to tell us anything. I still didn’t know what her job was, what happened to her last boyfriend, or why she took so many trips. Usually, her absence didn’t bother me, but now that Harbor was gone, it seemed to hit harder. I wished that at least one person could be there, even if they didn’t know of my bleak reality.

            I slowly chewed my cereal, watching the time tick by. 7:15…7:20…7:30…School began at eight, and I was careful to reach the building by exactly 7:55, when the bell rang. That way, my torture wouldn’t begin until first bell.

            I meticulously packed my bag and glanced at myself in the mirror. I looked pale and drawn. My shoulder-length black hair fell in choppy waves, and my deep green eyes were hard and reserved. I never bothered with make-up. No one would care. It wouldn’t impress anyone.

            Finally, ten minutes before the bell rang, I realized that I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I threw up the hood of my gray, inconspicuous American Eagle hoodie and began the walk to school. I scuffed my feet along the sidewalk, shoving my face further into my hood. I ground my teeth together, wishing that I could somehow disappear.

            I glanced up at the corner of the street. There it stood: the dark red exterior of Susan B. Anthony High School. Teenagers stood in clumps across the lawn, talking and laughing. I could easily identify each clique: the jocks, the populars, the nerds, the freaks, and the depressed kids. Each person had a niche, their place in society, and they were happy there. As for me? I would give anything to be normal and fit in with a clique. To fit in at all had been my biggest dream since I was eight.