My heart fell into the the pit of my stomach, as I read, repeatedly, the message on my phone. I could hardly believe that what I was observing was, in fact, reality.
I pinched myself with all the force I could bare, until I gave up and accepted it. I read it once more, my breathing uneven, muscles tensed.
'Hello.
You may not know me, but I know you. I know what school you attend, where you live, when you were born. And yet, you know nothing of me. Isn't that hilarious?
I know that you're sitting on your bed, on 78th Street. I see you as I'm sending this.
You're pathetic, ugly and stupid. Everyone hates you. Not a soul would care if you weren't on this planet - not even your Mummy and Daddy. Go die in a hole. Better to do it yourself than for me to get my hands dirty.'
I had no recognition as to the number; the sender could've been a block away, yet I'd be none the wiser. I threw my head into my hands, and attempted to think in a logical manner.
***
Nothing logical came of the extensive time I resided in my mind - nothing at all.
Why couldn't I tell my parents?
I'd have my phone confiscated.
Why couldn't I report and block them?
I didn't have the courage to do so.
All the perfectly reasonable methods from IT lessons flew away; a protracted distance from my brain. There was no solution.
Disconcerted and flustered, I grabbed ahold of my phone and threw it, with all of my strength, at my wardrobe, where the screen smashed into millions of tiny shards of glass.
I climbed beneath my blankets on my bed and wept, wept until there were no tears left to weep. My eyes closed tight involuntarily.
'Why was I even born?' I questioned myself mentally, as my consciousness slipped away from my control 'Why why why?'
It was almost as if my existence was a boxing match; life in one corner - burly, powerful, robust - and I in the other - weak, pathetic. The match had begun, and had escalated slowly. Then life threw a punch, impaling me, straight off. It seemed that there was no possibility of me winning - why did I bother even attempting?
YOU ARE READING
Bullied: Isabella's Story
Teen FictionWhen Isabella is forced to move away from what has been her life for as long as she can remember, she tries to think positively of the 'new life' ahead of her. That mindset rapidly decreases and transforms into an endless cycle of being battered and...
