This is the third time this week I've woken up to the sound of yelling. My parents are fighting again. Great, just great. I sigh and force myself to climb out of bed. Waking up every day is something I really loathe. I've always wished that I could sleep forever or just be dead. My life is terrible, I hate it.
Not even bothering to even slightly look nice today, I pull on a pair of faded skinny jeans, a simple black tank top, and UGG boots. I grab my bag, making sure my journal is still in there, and trudge out of my bedroom and down the stairs. Going to school is just another thing I hate. I get bullied and it has been getting worse.
Staring at the ground the whole time, I walk the two blocks to my school, Winfield High School. I live in a very small town called Winfield, that has the same name as the school. It's usually calm, boring, and quiet here. Every once in a while, it will get loud and crazy. I gulp as I reach the front doors of the school. Here it comes, I think as I stride into the school. I carefully look around and I don't see him or his friends anywhere, so I quickly make my way down the hall to my locker, which is were he is waiting.
“Well, if it isn’t Lily Smith, the school freak?” he said, grinning widely. His idiotic friends snickered behind him.
Sighing, I try my best to push them out of the way. Big mistake. He grabs my arm, most likely forming bruises from the firmness of his touch, and yanks me back.
“Bitch, who the hell do you think you are, pushing me? I’ll make your life a living hell,” he says. I stare at him in horror and gulp. He flashes me an evil smile and pushes me back, practically throwing me into the wall of lockers. Pain sears through my body as it collides with the cold, hard steel of the lockers. I fall to the ground and tears began to fall.
He walks up to me and pulls me up by my long black hair. “What? You’re gonna cry now, fucking baby?” he teases as he throws me back once more, more pain searing through my body.
“Please… just leave me alone…” I mutter in between gasps, clutching my ribs, which I guarantee are broken.
“Did the ugly ass freak speak?” he questions, loud enough for the all the people in the hall to hear. Picking me up by the hair one more time, he slams me into the lockers again.
“Jake! Let her be! Leave her alone!” a voice yells from the crowd of students that are watching me be abused.
“Shut up Anastasia!” Jake hollers back at the girl who is now pushing her way over to us.
“Jake, just let her go,” she demands when reaches us. “Jake, leave her alone. Stop being a jackass and let the poor girl go.”
Jake looks at her then back at me. “Fine, I’ll let her go,” he says finally. He throws me to the ground and leaves, but not before kicking me hard in the stomach.
“Come on, honey, let’s take you to the nurse,” Anastasia says softly, carefully helping me up and grabbing my bag and all my belongings. She helps me down the hallway to the nurse’s office, where I lay down on a cot and let the tears flow.
Once the nurse has me bandaged up, she leaves Anastasia and I alone.
"How are you feeling?" Anastasia asks, concern written in her voice and on her face.
"I'm... fine," I say, pain evident in my voice. "I'm just... sore and my body hurts." I see my bag, and try to reach for it, but fail as pain shoots through my body, making me gasp. I look at Anastasia. "Can you hand me my journal and a pen out of my bag?"
She nods, and rummages through my bag until she finds what I asked her for. She hands me the pen first, and then the journal. I smile a 'thank you' to her and open my journal, clicking the pen. I begin to write:
YOU ARE READING
I Need A Hero
Teen FictionCrying isn't a sign of weakness.. it just means you've been strong too long and need to let it all out.
