It was just another ordinary lunch period - me perched on the wall, reading.
Reading released the pressure of the school day; took my mind off of all my issues concerning Charlene and her 'crew'.
On this day, I'd been in the world of Tris, from 'Divergent'.
I idolised her; I loved how she'd had the courage to join Dauntless, despite her uncertainty of the future if she made that choice. I knew that I'd never be that person - that I'd never be reckless, valiant, heroic. I was just me. Plain, old me.
Engrossed in the story, I was oblivious to the happenings around me. From now until the bell rang to convey next lesson's beginning, my universe - my everything - orbited around Tris and I.
Then, a sharp, forceful hand on my back-
Within milliseconds, I was on the malodorous, damp earth, the brick wall I was relaxed on moments beforehand towering over me. 'Divergent' had been mangled, only a few pages still intact.
As I gathered myself up, dusting the muck to the best of my ability from my jeans, a chorus of chuckling and chortling echoed throughout, what it seemed, the majority of the schools building and turf.
I should've known who it was by now.
"Oh! Look at you!" Ava remarked, "The little swot!"
"Did you enjoy your text from us last night?" Frankie retorted.
I narrowed my eyes at her, infuriated now, that I hadn't figured that out sooner. Filled with anguish, I opened my mouth to speak, only to find that I was too cowardly to do so.
"All that stuff is completely true, y'know," Charlene grinned cunningly, "Nobody likes you. You're a mistake. That's all you'll ever be."
"Never heard anything so true in my life."
"She's such a freak."
"Ugly, too."
"You can say that again."
"Little, ratty bitch."
"I feel sorry for her mom and dad - they have to live with her."
Each of their statements stabbed into my very soul, leaving an eternal scar behind in it's place. Every one of their insults teared a gaping hole so large in my chest that I could hardly believe that it wasn't visible. I held it securely to prevent it from ripping itself apart.
I finally substantiated the truth; they weren't lying. I was unwanted - a mistake.
I focussed on reminding myself how to breathe, as they continued to rant at me. Everything merged into one pile of worthlessness; nothing mattered anymore.
I planted myself in the dirt; remained there even after the bell tolled. I could only stare down at the floor. I knew then that pessimism had taken control of me, and that I wasn't strong enough to fight it off. Life was winning the boxing match; I was on the edge of a knock out, I could feel it.
"Isabella... Isabella... Please answer me," a low voice beseeched, "Please, if you can hear me."
My eyes broke away from their meaningless gaze, and locked onto the voice's origin; Mr Murphy, my English teacher.
"Hi," I muttered.
"Isabella? Why aren't you in class?"
"I just didn't want to go."
"You're usually in class on time, before anyone else - is everything okay?"
I nodded.
His eyes critically scanned my face.
"Is everything alright at home?"
"Yes. Everything's okay," I barely even whispered now.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded once more.
"Well then... Would you like to come to class with me or aren't you ready yet?"
Without a word spoken, he led the way to English, me biting my nails anxiously, with knowledge that the cycle would never end; getting up, being beaten, then sleep again.
What was the point of living another day in this hell?
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...