Dsicarded: (verb) left behind, thrown away. Something not useful or desirable.
Nicole was broken down, crumbling. Her parents shoved her in a corner and kicked her, belted her, until she bled. Her tears stung her wounds. Nicole was crying, terrified on the outside but she was in a world of her own. A world where being belted was normal. Where it happened to everyone. Where everyone wore bruises on their faces and cuts on their legs. Well, the world she lived in wasn't reality, it was her fantasy.
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8:20 am. I walked into Chalfant Township Highschool and watched all the people stare at my scars, my bruises, and my open wounds. Some of the girls in my class opened their mouths slightly as if they were going to ask if I was okay, but they knew better than that. Each time they did, the school would find out. I had been brought to the school social workers so many times, thinking that I did this damage to myself. I had to tell them that I did, knowing I would get a beating right when I walked into my small house on the corner of Locust Street and Valley Road.
I tried to cover my wounds with my extra large black zip up sweater from Forever 21, the only trendy store my family could afford. I walked to my locker and was greeted by graffiti on my locker that read "Just go kill yourself, asshole." It wasn't unsusal for this to happen to me. It was every day of my life that this happened. It was every day of my life that my parents beat me. Everyday I got the same stares, the same bratty girls shoving me against lockers threatening to kill me.
I then opened my locker to see a knife, someone snuck in my locker with a note. I opened it and it said "Do it. It's what eveyone wants. Everyone wants you to be dead." I held the red pocket knife between my fingers and felt the tears in my eyes welling up and my heart shattering. My legs started running fast, and faster, right out of the school. It was my time and I knew it.
