Instagram drama

chapter 40: truth to be told

~if it makes you feel broken in any way, you need to end it before it ends you~

I drew the eye ^^^ sorry for dodgy eyebrows😂

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I stare up at Eastwood highschool, the huge building towers over my small figure. Kids walking past either happy or scared of me, I roll my eyes--im not evil. Well, thats what I think, most people judge me for what people say about me.

I hold my bag tighter as I enter the school, I tried hiding away the bruises all over me. I even wore a jumper because of my stomach, jeans and alot of makeup. Not that the make up bit is different,I always wear alot of make up.

The usual people staring and holding the door for me, and whispers here and there,nothing new. I always hated this, people judge me before even saying hi.

I mean I don't complain, everyone hates me.

Slowly I manage to find myself in my English class, sitting at the far back not needing any attention. But that's where the "cool" kids sit anyway, I pull the hood of my jumper over my head.

More and more people come rushing In, some ignored some stared some were confused. Why? I don't know--oh. Hurt rushes throw me...is that why everyone is staring more than usual?

Because I'm not wearing slutty clothes?

Because I'm wearing a jumper and jeans and not a small cropped top and shorts? I scoff at the thought and get out my English book.

Mackenzie Is coming back to school today, everyone is talking about her.
My boyfriend,Johnny isn't even taking  a few seconds of his time to say 'Hey! How are you?'.

I mean...who would.

No one.

I'm not her,I'm not the person everyone wants me to be. I'm the person that's evil and mean and that bullies people, that's what they know of me. But what people don't know is why I do it.

No one is born evil and mean, I just taught myself how to be mean and closed off. After what my dad did to me at the age of 10, I've had massive trust issues.

I'm a disappointment to my dad's eyes, even my mum---the mum I would do anything for, take a pullet for...isn't taking a pullet for me.

She's watching me get beat up,get insulted by my own dad---the man she married. You'd expect she would put a little bit of effort, but she doesn't.

And I'm never going to forgive her for that.

"Nadia Turner are you here?"

The teachers voice echoes through my ears over and over again, I wish I wasn't. "Are you blind? I'm here." This poor woman is only doing her job (the register) and look what I'm doing.

I'm closed off again.

Every single time I remember the past, everyone and everything dispears around me. It's only me, my thoughts and depression.