Life will never be the same

Chapter Three - The Truth about my past

As we turn into the school gates. I refuse to look up too see the building. My eyes are forced onto my shoes as i walk. "You okay?" Noah kindly asks.
"Yeah I am good. Are you?" I return the question.
"Yeah I am more than good. I will see you later" and walks off to his friends, giving each a hug. Already? I have already been ditched and it has been less than 1 minute. Great. I think to myself. I push my thoughts to the back of my thoughts and walk to the toilets near my form room. Every morning I sit in the toilets waiting until it is time to walk to form. I do this because I have no one to hang out with in the morning. I know it makes me sound sad. But I am. I am incredibly sad in life and I have no one to discuss it with. As I lock the door and scrape my back down the toilet wall. I hug my knees on and lean my head on the top. The cold toilet floor brings back memories. Not nice ones at all. I used to make this position when I was little. When my Father and Mother were screaming at each other. Every row made my life worse. Every row made me feel more lonely and more anxious in life. I always knew my Father would leave one day. But I just never knew when he would. Until one day my parents just had enough of each other. I remember being in the same position I am in now, but in my wardrobe in my bedroom. Tears were pouring done my face and my hands were shaking tremendously. My life fell apart that day. Without me having any input in it. Then I remember hearing the screaming stop. I thought it was all over. Finally. I remember thinking to myself. So I picked myself up and dabbed cold water underneath my eye bags to stop the swelling. I walked downstairs to find my Mother in the exact same position I was in less than 2 minutes ago. With shattered plates scattered around her and with her arms bleeding. "What happened Mummy?" I remember saying. "Mummy are you okay?" I repeat. "Mummy where's Daddy?" after that question my Mother had had enough of me as-well. I remember her standing up and grabbing me by the wrists. She looked scary. Her mascara had been smudged underneath her light hazel eyes. And her eyes were all bloodshot. Her hair sticking out, looking like it had been pulled. She grabbed my wrists so hard that they are still red today, 7 years later. She then threw me across the room. I thought I was dreaming. My entire body had been thrown and made the glass cabinet shatter on top off me. I had to pick myself up because my Mother had already stormed upstairs. That was the night my life had been taken away from me. The night that always makes me sob with even thinking about it.
I look at my phone. My home screen says 8:58. Two more minutes until school starts - year 11 to be exact. I grab my bag and rush through the crowd that I had clearly not paid attention to. Oh my god what if I am late? On my first day? My mum will kill me if I am late. Fuck. I pace my walk and then my hand hits the knob of my form room. I am relieved that not many students are here. Especially not the popular ones. Of course they won't be here on time. They are popular. They think being late is cool. I sit on the chair at the far back where I have spent every morning in for the time I have been at my secondary school. I sit down and get my to-do list out and cross out the 'to-do's' I have already completed. I then get my book out that I have been reading throughout the summer, even though I have re-read it 16 times now. You might ask why and it is because I had nothing else do to for six weeks. Only when Noah wanted to hang out with me. I used to put it back on the shelf and go back to it when I got straight back home. I haven't gone on holiday since my Father left us. So I didn't get my hopes up this year.