CREEPYPASTA

My School Is Torturing Children

I’m in school and I have a problem. They’ve told me that in times of trouble, I should confide in a responsible adult who I can trust, only I can’t trust any of the adults in my life so I’m turning to the internet in hopes that someone can solve my problem or at least point me in the right direction.

It started during your typical school day. I watched the other kids making new friends and saying hello to their old friends while I got shoved into lockers and called derogatory names. During recess, some particularly violent kids wanted to cut words into my arm with a penknife so I ran for all I was worth and attracted the attention of my gym teacher, who said I should try out for the track team.

My parents would never notice if I was out late because my dad is constantly on business trips and my mom is always stoned, so I made the track team, and that was that.

Practise was daily after school. I was too scared to shower with the other kids on the team because they constantly mocked my naked figure so I usually walked home sweaty and disgusting and showered in the privacy of my parents bathroom that always smelled like weed.

One day though, all the particularly horrible kids were sick, so I showered at school for a change. I took my time and relaxed, and then I remembered that I’d forgotten my math books in my locker. The usual route to my locker was blocked off by the cleaners, so I took the long way and heard a conversation you don’t want to ever hear at your school:

“Your parents will never know. Now take off your shirt.” The teacher was addressing a girl who was crying. “If you don’t take off your shirt, I have no choice to but to fail you, and you don’t want that.”

I peaked through the door’s window and saw three teachers holding scalpels toward a girl I’d never seen before.

“It won’t hurt if you hold still,” said one of the teachers.

I considered opening the door to stop them but I knew I stood no chance against three adults, so I pulled the fire alarm with my shirt over my hand, to hide my fingerprints, and hid in an empty locker, watching to make sure the three teachers and the girl all left the classroom.

“Find whoever pulled the fire alarm,” one of teachers ordered.

The teachers ran right past me. I thought they would hear the thick vibrations of my beating heart, but they didn’t, and the girl ran outside to safety. Once I could guarantee the teachers locations based on where I’d heard them running to, I ran home.

I wanted to phone the police but I had no useful information for them. I couldn’t get a good view of any of the teachers and I didn’t know the name of the girl they had tried to violate. Mother was stoned and watching cartoons while Father was in another continent.

The next day, I looked for the violated girl but couldn’t see her. I tried to recognize the teachers but they moved too fast for me to get a good look and none of my regular teachers fit the profiles of who I’d seen last night.

Maybe it would happen again tonight. Against my personal safety, I showered at school after track practise and was ridiculed by the rest of the team, but I couldn’t concentrate on their mockery, so they made me drink toilet water which meant I had to shower twice, which meant I was alone in the school again. I walked the same route to my locker as last time, passing the same room, only there was nothing this time. Maybe they’d been spooked yesterday, and were thinking twice about their life choices. I had to go to my locker anyway, to get my sweater, and heard a scream from another classroom.

I peaked through the window and saw three teachers with the same girl, only this time, they had cut open her stomach while she was awake and hooked up to weird machines.