Fourteen Days • Donah

Day Zero

I stayed there, unfazed by the slurred words towards me. I was used to it, immune, as if I had way of fighting them off. Or so everyone thought. The words would always come back once I was in the seclusion of my home. They burned me, but they were not the things that were pure fire to me. No one really knew the true cause for this, except for I.

I felt a tug on my short, messy hair. "Look at me, freak." Instead of obliging, I sat still, refusing to turn and look at my prosecutor.

I felt a harder pull on my short hair, "I said look at me!" The person whisper-yelled at me. I took a deep breath and turned to face the person who was harming— if you could call it that; I had endured worse— me.

"Hmm?" I hummed to the girl that sat behind me. An evil smirk danced on her lips as she spoke.

"I'm surprised you don't smell like pot today. You know, everyone can smell it, crackhead." I rolled my eyes and faced the front of the room. I knew the lash from my mother's and brother's habits would defeat me once I was safely home— but can I even call it safe?

The lecture from the teacher went on for ages it seemed. After some time, the ringing of the bell signaled to us that the school day was over. All the students around me raced to get out of their seats, eager to get home for the weekend. When I stood from my spot, the teacher called me over to his desk. "Daniel, you are failing." He said bluntly.

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "I already know this, Mr. Charles." He sighed before leaning back in his chair.

"What I am saying is that if you don't start participating in Speech, you will have to retake it." I was never big on speaking in front of crowds, and the people in the class made it ten times worse than it was.

"I wouldn't mind that, but I would rather prefer doing it without others in the class." I recommended. He just sighed and took off his glasses, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes.

"Daniel, this is Speech. Practice for public speaking. I'm sorry, but you have to speak in front of people," Mr. Charles told me, causing me to shake my head.

"Then fail me," I muttered, making my way out of the room. I didn't want to spend another second in the hellish place.

I made my way to my locker, twisting the combination on my padlock. I had paid for it myself due to my mother refusing to get one. I guess the incident of people filling my locker with men's undergarments and condoms to make me seem as if I was someone who sleeps around wasn't shameful enough for her.

This time as I opened my locker, papers flooded out, put in from the small slots on the top of the locker. I eyed them, looking at the dreadful words I have been hearing all day.

Die.

Fag.

Kill yourself already.

Freak.

Mistake.

Failure.

Horrid.

Die already.

I brought my eyes up from the thin, white sheets to look around me. People had gathered around, snapping pictures of me and the sheets on the ground, letting out fits of laughter. I quickly shoved the books I needed for class into my bag, slamming my locker and storming down the hallway to the exit of our school.

I decided to not take the bus to save myself from more humiliation. I started my walk down the sidewalk, towards the run down place called my house, as the words from earlier replayed in my head.

I was like a turtle; I needed my shell to be safe. Without it, I wouldn't be here. But the worst feeling is the feeling of your shell falling off. I feel that more often nowadays, still trying to hide my true self from others. I don't want to be hurt, but I am.

All of a sudden, I burst into a run, having the feeling of the shell slipping. If anyone saw, I would be doomed and would be more humiliated than I was regularly.

As if my feet had a mind of their own, they turned to go down a familiar trail. It was the trail that led to the spot I spent most of my free time at. It was peaceful; a place of silence for me. It was stunning, too, especially when the sun was setting.

As I reached the familiar spot, I sat down into the fresh, green grass and I let the held in tears fall. My mind started racing, and started doing what was the worst of the experience— agreed with everyone.

I sniffled and I let out another sob, the tears running like makeshift waterfalls. I grabbed out the one thing I would never be found without; my razor. I let out another sob as my hand brought up my sleeve, getting ready to add onto the marks that were on my arms. As I dragged it across many times, I could feel the pain that didn't hurt; I was immune to this. My thoughts were racing about what they said. I knew they were right, they knew they were right, everyone did. So I decided to do what everyone wanted.

I threw my razor away from me and rolled down my sleeve, not caring if it got my long sleeved shirt stained red. Soon, everything would be stained red.

I grabbed out a notebook and pencil from my book bag, deciding to leave a note; not like anyone was going to read it. I swiftly wrote down the words, tearing some spots of the lined paper from getting easily damageable from my tears that fell on it.

"Dear whoever is reading this..." I continued the note; the last thing people would hear from me. It wasn't long, nor short. I wanted this over as fast as it could. I needed it too.

"I have no reason to live here anymore." I got up and crept over to the edge of the cliff. My beautiful spot was the edge of a cliff that overlooked a valley that had yet to have buildings built there. A perfect spot to end this nightmare.

"There is no reason. Everyone wants me dead. And so do I." I was a foot away from the edge of the cliff. I brought my foot forward, prepared to meet my awakening of this nightmare—

"Hey! That's awfully close to the edge." I heard someone yell behind me. My eyes flashed open and I instinctively stepped back and turned to see the owner of the voice.

"I-I-"

The boy was almost the same height as my 5'10" form. He had brown, gelled up hair and had piercing bluish-green eyes that were magical. He had a confused look on my face, as if he had no clue who I was and what I was doing. Quickly, his eyes darted to the notebook that laid next to my bag, opened to the page I was writing on before, a rock sitting on the book causing it not to blow away. I stepped back towards the edge, this time on purpose.

"Please, don't do this." He said in a pleading tone, something I haven't heard in a long time. I was startled, thinking that a total stranger could want me to stay on this planet. Inside, I was already dead.

"I have to," I paused, looking into his enchanting eyes. "I need to."

"Please," he uttered again. "I can change your thoughts. I can make this life worth it." He seemed mystified by me; wanting to get closer to me to see who I really was. He would be changing his mind in a few days.

But something about him was drawn to me. Wether it was from his eyes or his hospitality, I found myself saying, "Two weeks. You have exactly fourteen days for you to make me want to stay alive in this dreadful world."

—

-Rivers-

If pain melted me down,
I would be rivers.
And a drowning soul too.

Rain is an excuse for tears,
Flooding your rivers.

And once there is a lake,
There is one last resort.

-Amber-

—

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