Spade

There Are Many Stages of Hell

I guess everything started with an ordinary day. The worst thing at that time was waking up for school. I hated it in a way that the only escape I could think of was death. That was all thanks to everyone deserving an Oscar for 'The Asshole of the Year'. Imagine a building full of dumb, fake, hateful people. I hate it. Having to come here was torture altogether, especially for someone my age. Also, it was very hypocritical of me to call people hateful when I hated almost everything myself. Now let's talk about my friend who actually has kind of an important role in this. His name is Jamie and he was the only one who understood my hateful nature at the time. Walking into the class I took my usual place at the back.

"Hey, Evelyn." Jamie sat beside me.

"Hey. How's it going?"

"Pretty good I'd say but god, I'm already bored."

"I know right."

The teacher came in with a faint door creek behind him. 

"Okay, everyone. Today we'll have a new student so I want all of you guys to be nice to her. She'll be attending the class as soon as she finishes giving information to the administration."

What? A new student? Usually, they won't accept mid-term applications. The only reason that they might accept someone mid-term was if that person was rich or a relative of someone working for this school.

"Maybe she'll be friends with us don't you think?" Jamie whispered.

"Yeah, I thought about it but I don't think that she'll be like us, you know."

"I still have hope though."

"Me too Jamie. Me too."

From the first day of school, we've been best friends with Jamie. Both of us went through similar events but after we met we always stood up for each other. We always supported each other no matter how childish the others acted. Effortlessly capturing their attention somehow was the worst. I guess it gave them a sense of power since I had minimal defense options. I got pushed, kicked on the ground, beat up and those also affected me psychologically which is also not the best thing that can happen to you, but still, it didn't change the fact that they are just a bunch of kids who can't get proper attention and care by their family. Also, did not change the fact that the only reason I could not fight back was the law. Can't hit minors... what bullshit. Yet, the thought about their parents hit me, hard. I wish mine were still alive. The voices called my name at night, making it harder and harder to live alone no matter how old you are.
People need people to hold on to. Jamie was who I held on to. Another weird fact about people that none of us seem to want to admit, if someone saves you from a situation you cling to them, wanting to be saved more. In my case, I thought about him in a way casual friends shouldn't think of each other. There's something about him that assures people, promises safety, protection and love but, Jamie was the least of my concerns. What I really couldn't get over was the decease of my parents. A car crash so unnatural everybody kept telling it must've been a drunk driver. Newspapers labeled it paranormal. The car was found in a complete wreck, my parents were unidentifiable. The license plate gave them away. Police calling me in the middle of the night leaving me in endless tears. I was so young back then, just 10 years old. Reminiscence of leaving school at such a young age just because not being able to comprehend the death of my parents. Nothing was real. How could a 10-year-old little girl be able to stay alone, having no other relatives to help basic needs. Mr. Grayson sometimes came to check on me, paid for my needs, taught me about life and how to live a normal life after a tragedy this big, other than what he taught in the class. He was the reason I studied in this high school, he pictured a normal life for me. Failure, years and years of failing with the cause of PTSD. 20 years old in high school. Some substitutes were almost the same age as me. Life hit me hard when it took my parents. Even thinking about them left me in tears. I tried to keep my mouth shut. I wanted nobody to hear me sobbing in the middle of the class.