Letter 11

48 5 1
                                    

Dear bully,

When I left you to think about what I said I ran home and up to my room. I laid on my bed and began to cry. All the memories of people loathing me, beating me, and calling me things I'm not came rushing back to me. I grabbed an old friend, my razor and sliced my wrists a few times. It felt good to feel the cold, smooth metal slide across my wrist. I wrapped my wrist with gauze and went downstairs to get some food. I saw a note on the fridge from my dad. 'Hey you little shit, I'm working late tonight so you better be ready for a beating twice as hard when I get back. And don't eat any of my food you greedy little pig! Your too fat as it is.' I crumpled up he paper throwing it away. I guess if I'm that fat I could wait another night.

Dear bully Where stories live. Discover now