Over-ruled

Chapter 1.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind wanting to start again?

I feel empty. There's nothing left to say, nothing left to do. I don't try anymore, I just go with the flow. It's not that I can't be bothered, I just don't have any strength left to do anything constructive. I made choices that led onto bad mistakes and now I have nothing left. I'm broken, a shadow left alone in the darkness.

My alarm beeped and I rolled out of my bed with a loud thump. I got up slowly to avoid getting a head rush and walked over to my chest of drawers. I only ever wore black. Not because I was a goth but because it made me feel less conspicuous. I didn't want to get close to anyone nor did I want anyone to get close to me. I'm fine on my own I had decided.

After my morning routine I went downstairs and ate breakfast. I then walked to the bus stop. I hate getting the bus. I feel as if it's a test to torture self-conscious teens on their way to school (otherwise known as hell) everyday. The bus and the school canteen were the two worst places that had ever existed, both had the dreaded walk-of-shame and I'm not the kind of person that likes to flaunt themselves off to others. (As you can probably tell)

As I walked off the bus and through the front doors whispers erupted around me. There were a lot of rumours going around about where I had come from and why.

There were a lot of whys.

Why doesn't she speak to anyone?

Why does she dress like that?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I never answer them of course. They don't NEED to know do they?

As I walk to my locker the whispers increase in volume. I feel like screaming at them SHUT UP! But I don't, I won't and I can't because I don't ever speak to anyone unless I have to anymore.

Friends are like support, support is like charity, only weak people need charity.

I am not a weak person

It's true I've been through a lot and yes I barely have any strength left but I do not need help. I am strong.

With this new thought stuck in my head. I turned around to see Stephanie and her two friends standing directly behind me.

They were rude, spiteful, vicious and just downright mean. They judged people on their appearance and also liked to think that they were all Miss-oh-so-popular. So when somebody else was stealing the limelight they felt that it was their responsibility to remove any ghost of a trace of that particular victim from every gossip column in existence.

Sadly I had sparked an interest when I had arrived so suddenly in the middle of the year. This made me the bitches' next target. Great.