Dark Oneshots

The Broken Loner

A/N: This is my first 3 am fanfiction, so I'm interested to see where my mind takes me.

She sits on her bed awake at 3:52a.m. unable to sleep. She sighs at she lets her thoughts consume her. Her memories consume her.

~Memory 1~
It's fifth grade she to shy to speak to others and so has become the outcast. And a target. She sits at recess against a wall reading a book. A group of kids come up to her and start throwing insults at her.

"Freak!"

"Loser!"

"Loner!"

"Worthless nobody! There must be something wrong with you for you to have no friends!"

"Stupid!"

The memory fades out and another one takes its place.

~Memory 2~
It's now eighth grade and her parents have recently gotten divorced. It's constantly on her mind, she thinks it's her fault. Her dad has started drinking heavily because of the divorce and her mom is constantly out sleeping with other men most nights. The bullying has continued, only further sending into a shell making her unable to tell anyone. She struggles with school but it's to afraid to ask for help and so falls behind further and further. She's struggling to keep up with everything. Things will only get worse from here.

~Memory 3~
It's now nineth grade, she's now 14. A couple of months after the divorce her father started to hurt her in drunken fits of rage while yelling and screaming harsh words at her. Her mom, although went physically abuse her has started to throw insults at her. And the bullying at school has gone from verbal to physical. Her bullies now beat on her in secluded areas of the school where no one can see. They add to canvas that it is her body, adding to dark blues, purples, blacks, and sickly green and yellow shades that decorate her skin along with cuts, scars, scrapes and gashes. No one knows. She's so quiet and shy, can't stand up for herself or speak out about anything done to her.

Some people are kind to her but in her mind they're not friends, they don't care about her they're just being polite. She misses people's kind and concerned gazes. The teachers . . . some worry about her while others don't. One teacher once went to give her a high-five in class and noticed as she flinched when the teacher raised her hand to do so. No body knows.

Her mind is endless maze of self loathing thoughts, insults, memories, and thoughts of letting it all go.

~Present~
It's now her Junior year. She's now 16. Her mind has been filled with the countless insults that have been thrown at her. It's broken, unrepairable. To far gone to ever make it back, even if anybody tried to step in and help now, it's too late, there's nothing they can do or say to help her.

Her body has been damaged just as much. Her skin is drawn tight around her ribs and filled with endless bruises, scars, scabs, cuts, scrapes, gashes, and burns. There is not a single millimeter of skin below her collar bone that has not been damaged. She's decided she can't take anymore. She scribbles a note and a last will of sorts detailing that everything she owns go to charity or at least to someone who will benefit from it.

The Note:
      If your reading this, I'm gone.  I'm sorry too anyone whom I've ever hurt. Please give everything I've ever owned, if anything, to charity. To anyone who reads this and wants to know why I did it . . . Well it was because I was broken beyond repair in more ways than one. Goodbye.

Sincerely,
The Broken Loner.

I

t's now 5:30 and she sits on her bed wondering just how exactly she wants to end it. After a while of pondering she decides to do combination. She goes to bathroom and waits for the tub to fill. As it fills she silently rejoices that she's at her mom house because her mom is rarely home and tonight is no exception.

Once the tub has finished filling she climbs in, still in favorite baggy pajama top and bottom. She takes her razor it creates long, deep cuts that run vertically to her arms and legs. She drags the razor across her skin once, twice, three times, seven, twelve, by now she's lost count. She watches as her crimson life paint pools from openings and mixes with the water becoming filled and making the water darker. She wants a couple of minutes before grabbing the two bottles that sit next to her, one is sleeping pills, the other is pain reliever. She takes a hand full of each and swallows them washing then down with a glass of water. She then throws the bottles in the trash. Now she just sits back and let's her my drift.

As her mind becomes foggier and foggier and her vision darker she hears someone walk into the bathroom and scream before drifting off into an endless world of nothingness.