Dear bully,
I now rarely eat, and I've finally reached my goal. Aren't you glad? I sure am! I still don't eat more than I already do, as that leads to me throwing it all back up.
There's just one problem: you haven't been leaving me any more bottles of the suppressants, or any more blades.
I notice you walking my way, raising your hand up for a slap. Before your hand fully reaches my face, I stare at you with confusion, and show you my empty locker. "Where are the suppressants and blades?", I quietly ask.
Your hand stops.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Bully,
Random***COMPLETED*** A story of a bullied girl, who writes letters to her bully, but never sends them.
