Bullied: Isabella's Story

Chapter Eight: Glimmer of Hope

I stared, long and hard, at the pill bottle I'd just snatched from the bathroom. My hands quavered, as I cautiously opened the lid.

I inhaled.

Then exhaled.

My heart accelerated, racing out of my chest, as it felt.

After what seemed like years - though only seconds had, in reality, passed - I tilted the bottle at an angle and observed as the capsules slipped into my palm.

Could I bring myself to do it? Could I really end it all? All the pain, all the suffering I'd endured? Could I let the opponent in the ring win?

My knock out's time had come; it was inevitable that it would.

***
After hours of contemplation, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't do it. I was 'pathetic', as Charlene had recalled. I'd slammed the pills down on the table adjacent to my bed in anguish, and clambered under my blankets, tears forming in my eyes.

Life had thrown another punch, and I'd - unfortunately - lived to see another round. I'd be scarred, though; I'd be damaged, wounded. Most definitely, that was not an advantage. I'd have no chance at being victorious. Life had the glory, and always would possess it.

***

"Right, get into partners; this task requires two people," Mr Murphy gestured to the class, "It will also be completed over a course of two weeks."

As per usual, nobody had chosen me. I peered around the room, apprehensively, my fingers twiddling around, the way they perpetually did.

"Due to a new addition to the class, there should be no 'odd ones out'."

This was, most definitely, an aside to me. I scanned the room, critically, once more.

"Ryan? Would you like to pair up with Isabella?"

"Okay," a low voice from behind me replied.

My head turned instinctively towards the origin of the sound. Instantaneously, my brain recognised his face.

He was THE boy; the first person I'd noticed on my 'introductory' day at school. The boy who'd been reading, rather than conversing in a group. The one who'd stood out. The one like me.

I clenched my fists, in preparation for the worst - he'd, most likely, tease me too.

"Hey," he'd beamed, "I'm Ryan, in case you didn't know. You're Isabella Williams, right?"

I nodded, taken aback by his kindness.

"I don't bite - you can speak, you know," he giggled.

I smiled.

"So... When are we gonna start this thing?"

"Maybe lunch?" I suggested.

"That sounds good."

RING! RING! RING!
The bell sounded, deafening, as it seemed, to signify the next lesson.

"I look forward to seeing what you come up with. Goodbye!" Mr Murphy dismissed us, a grin from ear to ear on his face.

"'Guess I'll see you in two periods," Ryan simpered, his skin almost glowing.

"Yeah, I guess you will," I chucked.

For once, the hole that had been punched into my chest didn't need holding onto; Ryan's kindness had eased the pain. And although it was just a spark of happiness - a minuscule glimmer of hope - it was enough to keep me going.

I wished, with all of my might, that it would stay in that manner.