My Life is a Silent Hurricane

Chapter Three- First Cut.

I wake up with a start, and I wonder where I am. I blink, and slowly register where I am. I'm in my room, laying with my head at the wrong end of the bed. There's a blanket over me. I realize that I must've fallen asleep and when my mom checked on me she turned off the music and laid a blanket over me. I check the clock. It's 5:57. Well, I think, I might as well get started early getting ready for school.

I get up, heading to the bathroom for a shower. I undress, then look at myself for a long while in the mirror. Fat. So fat. Ugly. My hair is dirty blonde, falling in soft curls down my back. My eyes are bright blue. Brown would look better. I'm fat. So fat. "Freak" i whisper aloud. And for the first time ever, I'm overcome with a horrible, drowning pain. How many times had I been bullied, called fat, ugly, freak, idiot, stupid, loser, bitch? Countless times. I break down right there, in front of the mirror. Then I grab my shaving razor, in a haze of horrible depression. I run it up my arm, from my wrist all the way to my elbow. Then I just sit there, crying and letting the cuts stream blood. It must've been almost half an hour later when I pulled myself off the floor and into the shower. Under the hot water, the fresh wounds hurt like hell but I don't care. When I'm done, I put on black jeans and a hot pink sweater top. No way was I risking anyone seeing those cuts... They were the first I'd ever made on purpose.

"Storm!" My mom yelled up the stairs. "Breakfast!"

I ran down the stairs, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror that was in the entryway below. Fat!!

"Actually... I already ate earlier. I was up early." I lied. The French toast she'd made smelled awesome, but I was already too fat.

"Okay. You sure you don't want some? French toast is your favorite!"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks." I said.

************

I walked in through the main entrance to the middle school, hitching up my backpack. I walk to my hall, and push through the doors. A few steps later, someone yanks me into a janitor closet. Dang it. I've been here before. I know what this means. I gulp. "Freak. You fat, stupid, worthless little freak!" someone hisses in my ear. I struggle, trying to squirm my way out of my captors grip. I look at the face. Ashton Baker. Status: Long-time enemy. Well-known bully. Chance at escape before the bell: 0.2%

Sure enough, he sneers insults and squeezes me tighter against the wall for the next 5 minutes. The bell rings. "Idiot. You're so ugly. Nobody will ever love you. Go die, loser." he snarls and then scampers away. I peer out the door, then hurry down the hall, grab my books, and run into class just as the tardy bell rings.

I'm sitting in language arts, not paying any attention. I'm examining the rows of long, deeps cuts up my arm. This HAS GOT to be the worst day of my life. I feel someone tug my hair. I lurch back, surprised. Whoever it is snickers, then continues pulling at it.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the day rings. I sprint out of the classroom, and hurry down the hall, my only thought: get out of here.