***THIS STORY CONTAINS THE TOPIC OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND ABUSE. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THESE TOPICS, DO NOT READ THIS STORY***
The sun brushing through the blinds of the glass window was enough to wake up me up. A groan slipped out of my mouth and barely filled a third of the room with sound, even though it alerted Che Santo, my Mexican pug with the face of a pig. He made his way through the cracked bedroom door and struggled his short-stature legs on the sheets. He crawled into my crossed legs and sat down in them. "C'mon Che Santo, I need to go look presentable," I said while picking him up and placing him on the ground. I looked at my phone making sure I knew what day it was. August 26th. The first day of my senior year of high school. I look into my closet filled with trendy clothes and skimpy outfits that got me to my popular stature in the first place. But those weren't needed anymore due to the "Flower Pot Incident" or whatever it was called at my school. Oh, you don't know about the "Flower Pot Incident?" Wow, that's a first. Well to catch you up, I'll give you a run-down of what happened.
---FLASHBACK---
It was 2 months ago, and I was over at my at-the-time boyfriend Liam's house. Liam was the most popular and charming guy in school. We had dated since the beginning of Junior year. He made me go from averagely-popular to everyone wanting to sit with me and be my friend. But our relationship wasn't all happiness and rainbows. He had some...issues. He was possessive and controlling. I didn't see it coming at first, because I was blind-sided by all the popularity and praise. He would tell me who to be friends with, where to sit, how to act, and what to say. That's why all the clothes that were in my closet had the name of a rap artist I didn't like on them, or showed way to much of my flat-chest. I felt like a Barbie. Just a toy. Not able to make decisions for myself. Worthless. And I was sick of it.
When we were at his house that June day, I told him I needed to talk to him. He got slightly aggravated at this. I sat him down and I told him that we had to break up and that I just wasn't happy. Which was true. I wasn't happy. I spent an entire year being abused emotionally, and physically. Yeah did I forget to mention that. He raped and sexually abused me. I felt dirty and stupid. How could I have been so blind? When I told him we needed to split, he bolted up from his chair and threw me on the ground. He bruised my arm and legs when he grabbed me. I ran outside, attempting escape. He followed me outdoors. He picked up a flower pot and chunked it at my head, missing thankfully, and hitting the window behind me. That's when I ran away, my legs barely moving on command in shock of what had just happened. Later that day, I texted him saying I was sorry and that it's better this way. "How could you do this to me?" he texted back, "I've been nothing but good to you. I've helped you be a better person and help you come out of your shell!" "I'm going to hurt myself," he sent me, "You'll be sorry" was the last thing I've ever heard from him.
A few hours later, I've gotten texts from lots of the "friends" Liam forced me to make. Most of them consisting of "Are you okay?" and "Why did he break up with you?" That bastard told everyone he broke up with me! He posted about breaking up with me all over social media. He said I was becoming possessive and I acting crazy. I was furious! He built himself up as this "Oh, she's crazy and abusive and I had to dump her," kind of attitude. Which was utter bull crap.
After he "broke up" with me, I spent 48 hours of loneliness and regret hanging over my head. I kept watching mindless sitcoms and children's movies to drag all of my suffering out of my brain. During my 7th showing of "The Golden Girls," I was interrupted by a news broadcast. "Ex-Girlfriend Rampage" covered my screen. The camera-man got a slow, panoramic shot of a house. For some reason, this house was engraved in my memory. "Oh my god," I mumbled, the words barely forming on my tongue. A feeling arose within me that was similar to the emotions rushing inside of me every time I neared this specific location broadcasted internationally. It was his house. Yes, Liam. A news broadcaster voice-overed the story. "In a small town in Texas, a teenage boy, Liam, breaks up with his girlfriend, Rhiannon. Apparently she couldn't handle it well, and well, look." An image of my former boyfriend showed up, with very obvious make-up scars, with fake blood, scars, and a black eye were smeared on his face. "Could you tell us what happened?" the same lady doing the voice-over asked Liam. "Well," he said, playing the victim, "I had told her that we needed to split up because I just wasn't happy with her. That set her off immediately. She started balling and ran outside, leaving my front door. I started walking behind her to close the door...big mistake. Next thing I know, a flower pot comes whirling at me! "How could you do this to me!" she cried, alerting my neighbors. That's when she got into her car and drove away. I went inside and called that police. Before they got here, Rhiannon had apparently drove back here and spray painted my car, as you can see, and broke one of our windows." "Well there you have it," another woman said, sitting at a desk at the headquarters of the news station.
I bolted for the remote control and pressed the "Off" button as quickly as possible with tears stinging at my eyes. I dropped the remote and crumbled to the floor, sobbing. It's a good thing I was home alone. I cried for a solid 30 minutes until I fell asleep, laying there, on the carpeted living room floor.
---END OF FLASHBACK---
So now I'm here, getting ready for school and preparing myself for the torment I'm beginning to face from the other students and Liam, especially.
YOU ARE READING
"She's Our Next Outcast"
General Fiction"Friendship is born at that one moment when one person says, "What! You too! I thought I was the only one.""- C.S. Lewis Well, that was the case for Rhiannon Scott, a Senior at Bradley William S. High School. When she got with her toxic ex-boy...
