So it was like every morning, wake up chuck on some clothes . Brush my hair, wash my face. Have a shower.
Running downstairs, my mother would be at work and my father would be drinking his coffee, reading the newspaper. He didnt really care about what I dressed in so I was saved by one lecture I didnt want to listen to.
Walking to school was a challenge but I didnt have a car so I couldnt really drive neccessarily. Passing some idoits from school as they yelled out wierdo and freak in my ear, I'd plug in my earphones and think of a happy moment.
I wasnt a murderous person but what they did to me made me think of the possible killing scenarios. As I walk into the school gates, a couple of girls stopped me huddling around me in swarms. Searching for a way out no hope was found.
Few minutes pass, and they strip me clean, leaving just my undergarmets on. Screaming in embarassment, other people start to notice and soon enough the cuts on my skin appear. Everyone starts to point as I look around yelling out stop.
I try to gather my clothes back but instead like the bitches they are. They chuck it on the roofs of the classrooms. Quickly sprinting to the nearest bathroom more laughs and shocked faces are formed.
Unaware of the many looks I'm given, I idoitically remember my bag is still in the same spot I was undressed. Looking back at the snickering bunch of girls, one of them ( the leader ) is dangling it in front of her, as it swings from side to side.
Glaring at her, I form tears and continue running to the bathroom. Once I get there a few girls snap photos of me whilst calling me slut. Hopping in the first bathroom stall. I sit on the toilet seat, thinking how the heck im going to find clothes.
Crying constantly, I hear a male voice from outside. Noticing who it is, I realise it's my brother.
No one at school knew I had a brother, it was quite easy to hide, we both had different last names so our identity as brother and sister were unnoticeable.
" Mace, Ive got my sport uniform here " my brother says, chucking the bag over into my stall. Sniffling in the process, I begin to ponder at the oversize baggy sweatshirt and sprinter shorts.
" Thanks " I say while wiping my sudden tears.
" Im sorry " Trent replied.
" For what " I ask.
" For not helping " Trent retorts.
" Well if you were sorry you..." I said before I was rudely cut off by the sound of girls walking I the bathroom.
YOU ARE READING
Im a murderer
Teen FictionMacey Andrews is fed up with living her life being constantly bullied. Though her parents care for her, she feels of committing suicide. Unfortunately, she tends to an even worse attempt, killing. Obessed with the life as a murderer, she starts to k...
