11:11pm

Chapter One: A Myth

~TRIGGER WARNING FOR CUTTING AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS~

You know that myth? The wishing one? You must've heard of it, they say if you wish upon a star at eleven eleven each night, saying what you want out loud, it'll come true? Yeah, i didn't believe it at first either. I just thought it was more crap the internet spews out, just some hopeless kid wanting a wish.

That's who made it up, someone hopeless.

Atleast, i thought it was stupid. I did when i first heard it a year ago. Now things have changed. I went from being a fairly popular kid, ya know, Good friends, Good grades, Just a good kid. Not anymore that is. No where close anymore. My grades have dropped, My friends have left, Teachers don't respect me. Hell, No One respects me anymore, Not anyone.

This all happened because of some rumors. Sounds cliche doesn't it? You'd be right. Your typical high school set up, except this is in England, and instead of just being gossiped about, things get violent, bloody, and fast. People wait outside of your house just to get a punch or maybe a kick into your skull, that's if you're lucky. Maybe a ciggie will be put out on your hand, or maybe a quick little head slam into a desk. You may ask why the teachers don't stop it. That's because they don't care, just because a school has an "anti-bullying policy" doesn't mean they'll stop it. Not when year tens who will threaten to shank you and carry around pocket knives are involved, anyways. The teachers are scared they'll get hurt, too.

It's not like they could help anyway, My mental state was broken before this happened, infact, the reason i get bullied is because of my mental state. Because i didn't think properly, because my wrists were red and my school shirts stained with blood. Because like normal, id come into class late, my cheeks red and blotchy from tears trickling down my face, pulling on my blazer to hide my skellington looking arms covered in cuts, bruises and scars. But it just got worse and worse.

It got to the point that i would dread waking up, that i'd hope i'd sleep and not wake up, that id never leave my room, the only place i felt safe. When the holidays came, i didn't leave my room unless i desperately needed to, which was barely ever. I had a toilet and shower in my room, so i could get water from the tap, i only ate once every seven days, i was nothing but bones, that's all i wanted to be. At one point i didn't eat for a whole month, i got rushed to hospital and fed through tubes,, monitored 24/7. Now i'm back at home, i don't eat unless i need to. My mirrors were blacked out to stop me from breaking down everyday, like that would stop me.

But it's fine, I don't get out of bed, i have no need to. My room is my cocoon. Its my haven. A box hidden under my bed full of tools to stop the pain, A single glass of water to stop me from wanting or needing food. A warm blanket and internet. Its all i need. Its all i want. I don't want to go back to school, i won't go, i refuse to.

Not back to that hell hole. At Least not for another two months. Thank you holidays.