Life's Complicatios

Annabeth's Present

After spending about ten minutes to wash up, I quickly went into my tiny kitchen and forced quarter of a loaf of bread into my mouth. I then picked up my school back and checked inside, and cursed. I hadn't packed the day before, or should I say, this morning, and thus forcing me to roam around my apartment now, searching for my English textbook. You may be wondering what's so hard about finding a textbook in a small apartment, but if you have actually seen my apartment before, you would totally believe I spent another good ten minutes to find it.

After I stuffed it in my school bag, I quickly wore my shoes, slammed the door behind me, bolted it and ran down the stairs to the bus stop. If I missed the bus, I was so going to be late again. Actually, I already was.

I've always dreaded school. It's ironic that I work so hard to earn enough money to pay for schooling, and then hating schooling itself. The reason is actually a very common one. No, not classes or teachings. I love classes. The thing that makes me dread school is much worse.

When I reached the school, assembly had already started. Damn the traffic. I heard pupils singing the national anthem as I walked into school with a heavy heart. Reaching the parade square, I went and stood with the rest of the latecomers, who sits at the side, away from their classes, though truthfully, I actually think that as a good thing. Teachers who stood in attention glared at me fiercely, while pupils just ignored me, which I was thankful for,

After the usual morning greetings from our black-faced principal, whose name I don't care to mention, the discipline master, Mr. White, took down all the latecomers' names while lecturing us about being late for school. Unfortunately, this is already my fifth time being late, and thus I had a four-hour detention. I groaned inwardly at that thought. Looks like I'm going to be returning back home after midnight again.

After being released by Mr. White, I made my way to the English class for my first period. Great, just great. I had a feeling that I wasn't going to go off unharmed today, as every other day...dreading what would most possibly happen later, I trudged towards the class.

I stepped into the class with all the negative emotions swirling inside me. Fear, sadness, pain, and even a little resentment swirled in me as I caught sight of a certain someone in class. My English teacher, Ms. Ang, who was teaching, caught side of me and with a little anger in her voice, told me to go back to my seat, and returned to her teaching. Thank the Gods, whoever they are, for not making her nag at me all day long.

Too bad for me, as soon as I thought that, someone threw a paper ball at me and insulted me saying "Lazy, ugly, messy girl. Why don't you just go stay at home and go fat eating and sleeping, since you're always so lazy to reach school on time?"

I tried to ignore the snickers coming from the other classmates, but to no avail. I blushed deep red in embarrassment as I fastened my pace to my seat. Now you can see why I dread school and especially classes...people always picked on me. This is the fourth school I've been in the past three years after my separation, each transfer for certain different but equally terrible reasons, except one...

Just three more seats away..please please please... I thought in my head as I walked quickly. Unsurprisingly, my pleas were not answered. Ivan, a damn bastard who always liked to pick on me, and unfortunately sits in front of me, stuck his foot out and conveniently tripped me. I stumbled and fell, using my arm to block my head from hitting the ground, and thus causing me to get a bruise and gasp in pain.

Laughter rang through the class. Seeing me lying on the floor must have been so hilarious to them. The laughter only died down when Ms. Ang told them to quiet down, but I could detect a hint of laughter in her voice too. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood up shakily. I tried to stop the tears, but with the pain from my arm and the additional feeling of embarrassment and hurt in me, it refused to stop.

When I finally managed to stand up, Ms. Ang walked up to me and asked me if I was all right, though it was quite obvious I was not. Remembering the laughter in her voice, I just ignored her and sprinted out of class to the toilet, ignoring the shouts Ms. Ang, but clearly hearing the several jeers from the students.

When I reached the toilet, I looked at the mirror and saw my distraught, tear-stained face. I felt devastated, and a certain word in a jeer that kept on repeating in my head didn't exactly help comfort me. It kept echoing over and over again, killing me on the inside. Slut...slut...

"Why must this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this hard, cruel life? Will there be anyone out there that will ever care for me, and actually bother to know me? And..will they accept me for what I am, and stay with me if they knew...that..?" I thought, despair overcame me and sank down onto the floor, crying hard.

"Probably not.." I thought bitterly, as the tears ran like a rushing river.

Little did I know, and I wished I knew then, that I was wrong. Oh so horribly wrong. And boy how glad I am I was wrong.