Olivia's POV
Name's Olivia-- Olivia Morten if I dare say. Yes; my father is crazy... perhaps a reason why you would recognize my name. For many, many years, I have been bullied and harassed by my classmates. But none of them had ever hurt me mentally or physically as much my father had.
He would force me to do everything for him ever since I was 5. My mom atleast used to love me, but she became a drug addict and lost her life to it. My dad, however, has always been crazy. They both had lost their minds.
I want to alert someone about this information, but I'm utterly terrified. My dad somehow knows how to open bars with his bare hands. Simple explanation; he's bonkers! In my honesty, I feel better at school than at home. I listen to punk-rock/alternative, or on that matter, Fall Out Boy to keep my head up and enjoy part of the world I live in. Patrick Stump has taught me so much and that is why I thank him.
In music class, I enjoy spending my time in the corner while learning songs on the keyboard that had intrigued me. Songs that specifically caught my attention were Young and Menace, What A Catch Donnie and This is Gospel, which I took note into learning.
I don't consider myself 'emo.' Although I appear to look emo since I wear a black beanie and do my makeup slightly dark. I suppose you don't have to be 'emo' to like certain bands.
Today appeared to be a normal day, but then I heard everyone gossiping around the school. My head perked up in attention because boy did I love conflict (if it didn't involve me.) However, it was claimed that people were talking about a new music teacher. I didn't really care since our previous music teacher wasn't that great and carried on through the day.
I had to rush to fifth period-- Science, then lunch. After lunch is music, which was the only thing I looked forward to. I open the door to the Science room, quick to be the first one in. I close the door behind me, ignoring my teacher as I take a seat down at my desk. Moments later, middle-schoolers poured out from the entrance to their seats, blabbering about who knows what.
"Okay, class." The teacher stepped in front of the whiteboard, her gaze flickering around the room. Nobody listened, so she yelled out for their attention.
The room was soon silenced. The teacher grinned as if she hadn't just hollered at them. "Great. Please turn your Science books to page 777."
Most of the class did so, even I. As I turned there, I felt something sharp hit me. I gazed in the direction of where I was hit to find a note stuck on my back. I swiftly tore it off, staring intently at the words written fresh on the note:
"Kill yourself."
I got these way too often-- mostly because people believed I would turn crazy like my father. I just crumbled it up and put it in my backpack. I felt another one, but I ignored it.
"Psst."
I tried my best to ignore that that as well, focusing my attention on my work. The kid who sent the note rolled his eyes. "Open your note, loser," he whispered, leaning over to me.
I glare back at him, meeting his gaze. I pull the note off of my back and slam it on his face.
"Listen to your own advice," I say impulsively.
The kid's mouth went from agape to a smirk. He rose his hand high in the air, whiningly calling out: "Mrs. Cribble, Olivia put this note on my face!"
