My Will To Live

CHAPTER 11- Worthlessness

It was a school day. That thought vaguely registered in the fog of my mind, along with notes of celebration. Mind you, it wasn't that school was any less of a hell hole, but it was certainly better than living with my so called parents.

I drag myself out of bed, but my body protests at the sudden movement. I lack food and I'm aching all over, but I'm ever determined to get to school. If I can get to school, I can leave the house. Maybe in school all the teachers show are indifference, but it's better than hate you're getting from your own parents.

I check the fridge in hope that they have left overs from dinner. Yesterday as I was in my room I smelt chicken and maybe even some kind of pie they seemed to be having for dinner. It made my stomach growl and made me wish wish wish that I could go out there to join them.

I don't have luck. There's nothing for me to eat. I think they knew that I would search the fridge and threw out the left overs. Shoot.

I manage to find some money in my school bag, and I hope that I can maybe get some food from the convenience store on the way to school. I have no such luck, however, because the price of the food has risen so high. I can hardly even afford a bottle of water. However, as I lacked water as well, I spent what I have on the water. It's cool and even sweet against my parched throat.

Though the water does not really satisfy me, I drink enough that I can kid myself I'm full and that I've eaten.

I hardly pay attention in school. All I'm aware of is that my body aches and that I haven't even had sufficient food for the day. All I've had is water, and by the time I've drunk the whole bottle I've had to go to the bathroom and out it all goes again. When it's time for gym, I tell my teacher I didn't bring the necessary clothing. The teacher hardly glances at me and waves me off to the side to sit and wait for the period to be over.

It's not that I haven't brought my gym clothes. I have, they're always in my locker. But I decide I can't do gym today, and with good reason too. I'm feeling light headed and if I so much as turn my head, my world is thrown off balance. I can't expect to do gym unless I want to pass out, and have everyone on my case. And that would not be good, because I didn't want the fuss. If people found out what happened at home they would rattle, and if they rattled I would be done for. My best bet is to try not to pass out or puke my guts up, so I stay clear of gym.

When we have science, we need to do a lab. I very nearly dose off during that period, and I get yelled at by a teacher for sleeping and get sent out of class. When I'm outside I think of some of the things the teacher said to me and what my parents said to me, and I nearly break down right then and there.

It hurts you know? Am I really that worthless? A waste of space? Someone who doesn't deserve to be alive? I didn't use to let these things affect me, but lately I have. I mean they're repeating these things for a reason right? Could it be true? Maybe I really am a waste of space.

Normally at the end of school I would run home. But this time round, I don't. I walk, not caring about the rain, not caring about being late. I don't care. Why should I? I'm just a waste of space, aren't I?

My feet splash in the muddy puddles as the rain patters down above me. When I stop to cross a street, a car whizzes past, splashing more water all over me. Now I'm cold, wet, and hungry, and it's all I can do not to just sink down on my knees on the street then and there. I want to. I could beg, even. The hunger in my stomach is so prominent that my stomach aches. But I don't beg, because the most I can do is hold on to my dignity. So I hold my head as high as I can bear it, and cross the street.

But it doesn't last long. My head feels like a heavy, leaden weight and all I can feel is sickly. When I pass the convenience store, the lady there sees me. She hurries out, a candy bar in her hands.

"For you, poor child. You look like you could use it." She says in a whisper, handing the candy bar in her hands to me.

When she's gone, I turn it over and over in my hands. Have I really been reduced to such a state that people actually feel pity for me? I don't want pity. You read stories about abused kids and how they hate pity, and now I finally know why. We don't want pity because all we have left is our dignity. By accepting pity, my dignity would be taken away too.

And yet, here I am. As if fate has decided to mock me one more time by slapping me square in the face.

I'm used to fending by myself. I'm not used to people doing things for me. I have never been ever since my parents started to abuse me. Nobody has cast me a second glance, ever. I got used to fending for myself. Got used to being independent, and I got used to living without luxuries. I've always told myself not to let my parents' words hurt me, to get to me. I didn't exactly build up walls, or anything like that, just numbed myself against them. I don't know why, but today I just broke.

I'm still staring at the candy bar when I reach home, cold and shivering. I'm sitting in my room after being beaten yet again, and I can't even shower. I'm hungrier than ever and I really need food. I really want to give in, and just take the damn candy bar already. But I can't put my pride aside. When all you have left is your dignity, you don't want to lose that too.

I just wanted a hug. I wanted clean clothes and loving parents. I wanted a happy family. I didn't want to be stuck here with drunks for parents. With no food, with nothing except Taylor for company and a candy bar that was slowly melting in my hand.

I could change this. All I would need to do is apologize to my parents, say I'm sorry I chose Taylor over them. They'd take me back in a heartbeat. Give me clothes, food, warmth. I'm almost tempted to, but I don't. I can't give in. I'd rather eat that damn chocolate bar than give in to them. Then I'd have everything I need, but I would lose myself in the process, and I can't do that.

In the end, I give in to hunger, kidding myself that it's just one act of kindness. I tell myself it's better than giving in to my parents, better than giving up Taylor, better than losing myself just to gain materialistic possessions. I tell myself it's better that I suffer than lose all my dignity, what I stand for. At the very least, accepting this chocolate bar only makes me lose a little of my pride, not as much.

I almost laugh bitterly aloud at myself. Who am I to be talking about pride when I'm hardly worth anything? I could disappear right now, life would still go on. It wouldn't end. The earth would still revolve around the sun, my parents won't miss me. Neither would my teachers and friends.

Oh, right. Taylor.

But I'm just a fan in millions. Millions of others who are way better than I am, way prettier than me, a plain girl with boring brown hair and brown eyes. I'm nothing in a million. I try to tell myself that I'm still contributing to her success. Then I force myself to believe it.

Once again I cry myself to sleep. Not even I believe my own lies. I'm just a waste of space right?

Yay an update! It's Sunday where I am so I updated. Once again it's not a really long chapter, and I apologize for that. I'll still update but maybe the chapters won't be as long, because currently I have a friend going through some problems and I'm trying to help her. I hope you guys understand. Next update Tuesday!

Megan xxx