TROUBLED (completed) (re-writing)

Chapter Eight [Nobody Saw Her Struggle]

She was drowning

but nobody saw her struggle.

-Unknown

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"So what type of music do you listen to?" Ryder licks the ice cream from the pink plastic spoon in his hand.

We're sitting on the curb at a Dairy Queen Ryder enjoying a large bowl of vanilla ice cream, and me sipping on a water.

"It depends, anything rock or indie is good." I shrug. "What about you?"

"I like a bunch of different shit, as you can see." He looks over at the numerous albums thrown around his car.

"You sure you don't want any of this..?" Ryder puts Styrofoam cup of ice cream in front of my face. I scrunch up my nose in disgust. "No thank you."

We sit in a comfortable silence watching the view of cars flying past us. this might be an ordinary view for Ryder, but I have never sat and studied cars before, it sounds crazy, but the sight of vehicles of all shapes and colors driving around makes me think that what if people were as picky about other persons transportation option as they are about their clothing? Would someone really step out of their car while at a red light to yell across the street at someone for having terrible taste, and then go on about how silver cars are too modern? with the society now days, nothing will surprise me.

"What are you thinking about Sally?"

"It's stupid." I confess.

"I think a lot of stupid things, I bet it's not as stupid as this one thought I had yesterday, what if a chicken could lay eggs that are like, I don't know, brownies? Imagine going to make breakfast and the next thing you know you made dessert. Fucking awesome."

"You're mental."

"Sometimes. But you have to admit that was a smart thought. Anyway, what were you thinking about..?"

After telling him my embarrassing thoughts about society he slowly nods.

"That's not stupid at all. I can see where you're coming from... I'd be that type of person driving around in a weird looking pink car just waving to strangers with a creepy smile on my face."

"I bet you would."

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It was 5:00pm by the time Ryder drove me home. We had sat in his jeep for a good twenty minutes in silence outside of my house. I didn't want to walk inside the front door, and I think he knew it. But I couldn't keep him waiting, so although I didn't want to, I opened the door and walked inside. Ryder probably had things to do, and no doubt his family was waiting on him.

•

•

Why does it always come to this? Me locked in my dark bedroom with my music blasting from my headphones into my ears, seemingly oblivious to the world. My mind running away to dangerous places where it always seems to find a razor. Is there another way to help me not feel so depressed? No. The happiness that I had felt earlier is completely gone. I'm sick and tired of being depressed, why can't I be happy? Maybe my destiny is to be unhappy, I could've been put on earth to be that person that reminds others that they want to be happy, or else they'll turn out like me. A freak.

Well in that case, why shouldn't I cut myself? My usually loud mind struggles for a conclusion.

I reach for it and turn it over in my hand, how could such a small object cause so much trouble, but also so much comfort? I pull up my shirt and slide it over my hip. I let the blood silence all the demons living in my head.

Oh what I would do to feel as happy as I did earlier.

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As soon a I push through the doors to school I can feel a million pairs of eyes lock on me. Oh right, I totally forgot about what happened with Olivia yesterday.

As if I had spoken out loud, Olivia herself walks into my vision. Her long perfectly flat ironed hair falling over her confident shoulders. All and all her demeanor screaming bitch.

"How's Prince Charming?" She tilts her head to the side faking curiosity.

I ignore her and keep walking.

"Any new cuts today?"

I freeze.

"We all know you only cut for attention. You're a whore that needs everyone in school to pity you." She continues.

Oh hell no.

I slowly turn around. the guts of this bitch. "I harm myself for attention..? If I remember correctly, I was doing just fine hiding under clothing. Before you took my jacket away, no one knew. So don't you dare try to make it look like I flaunt my scars for attention. And lets face it Olivia, the only whore here is the one wearing freaking booty shorts in the middle of November." I clench my fist and walk away.

Still fuming I stalk over to my empty locker, mine as well drop my backpack off, it's not like I'll be using any of my school supplies. The sight in front of me causes all of the air to leave my lungs... Taped to my locker are various sizes of razor blades. Scribbled in black sharpie are the bold words 

'M A Y B E  T H E S E  W I L L  B E  
S H A R P  E N O U G H  T O  C U T
  Y O U R  T H R O A T'

Ignoring the hurtful words, I pull open my locker, instantly I jump backwards and scream. Pouring out of the small space is gallons of what I assume to be fake blood. Drops of the blood fall to the ground identical to the clear tears falling from my eyes. Of course getting bullied isn't a new thing for me, I was bullied all throughout middle school, but I have successfully avoided it for so long, that it's just a punch to my already bruised stomach. 

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Right now the only thing helping me through this terrible day is the thought of a certain bright eye'd, dark haired boy.

I haven't seen him today, then again I haven't been in school longer than an hour.

As I sit in the girls bathroom my heart feels extremely heavy. I have never felt so down in school. I can normally tolerate it. I feel like the only thing inside my body is a huge rain cloud and it's slowly sucking the very last emotion out of me. My head feels light and my limbs heavy.

I continue to sit there until I hear the bathroom door open and close. I can make out the soft sound of uggs dragging on the tiled floors, and also... Crying? I don't move. I stay completely still in the stall I am currently sitting in. The sobbing continues. I decide that I can't take anymore of it. I push open the stall door and step out cautiously. I am shocked by what I see.

Sitting on the dirty floor is one of the girls from Olivia's group, the redhead. Was her name Becca..? Crying her eyes out. her head is pressed to her knees that are pulled up to her chest, her hair falling like a curtain and hiding her face. I quietly lower myself down next to her and rub her back. she stiffens, but doesn't look up.

"I hate myself." She continues to cry.

"You're not the only one who hates yourself..."

"You don't get it, I try so hard to be perfect, I try so damn hard."

I awkwardly pat her back. Does she know it's me, the loser..? "Becca," I start, hoping that that is in fact her name, "lets face it,  you're beautiful and many girls look at their self everyday and wish they had such beauty as you have."

"No"

"Yes."

Her crying calms down a bit and she wipes her eyes, she glances at me through her hair and gasps. "Why... Why would you say something like that... To- to try an make me feel better..?"

I look down at my hands and reply. "Because I know what it feels like to be in pain, and to hate yourself. It's something I struggle with everyday." I don't know why I'm telling her this...