Short Story Collection

The Bottled Explosion

My hands rattle against the desk. The squeaking of chairs on the tile makes my brain vibrate. I tap louder and louder until I can hear it over the shouting kids. No one pays me any attention. Why would they? I sit and observe while they go on about their day. No one says "Hello," or "How has your day been?"

While the teacher talks, I listen. I could make A's in school, but I only try for average grades; nothing more, nothing less. With average grades, no one asks questions or singles me out as a "genius."

In the morning, I make myself breakfast while my mom dreams the day away. The only time I see her is when she leaves for her shift at the nursing home. She says a quick "Goodnight." then, she disappears through the door, and I don't see her till I wake up the next morning. All I ever hear from her is "Goodnight." and "Good morning." She never speaks any other words to me.

You may be wondering where my father is. The truth is I don't know, I have never met him. I have never even received a gift from him, he probably doesn't know I exist.

In school, I sit at the back of the classroom where I'm not seen. I don't speak and the teacher never calls on me. No one sits by me, not by choice anyway.

Once the bell rings I try to get to my next class as quickly as possible. If I get spotted by the "cool" girls they'll make me feel worse than I already do. They know I have no friends; no one to stick up for me. That makes me an easy target. They call me names and make fun of me. On the bad days, they have their jock boyfriends beat me up. I have the bruises to prove it. Of course, my mom never notices; she never notices anything.

You may be asking yourself "why haven't you told anyone?" They threatened that if I told, the situation would only get worse. I don't see how it could be worse, but I don't want to find out.

Today was a bad day. I only got punched in the stomach today, so that's not too horrible. Thankfully, I was still able to make it to class early. If I'm late people start asking questions. I take my usual seat at the back of the class.

As the teacher writes on the board, the marker squeaks. I try not to look at the marker tip, but it's like my vision zoomed in on it. That's all I can see, that awful noise fills my ears along with the chewing of gum around the room, and the tapping of feet on the colored floor tiles. I have not heard the teacher's voice once throughout the lesson, though she has been talking the entire time.

I can't focus on the board with all the little noises. I hate that about myself. I've always been like that.

When the day is finally over, I take the bus home because no one is there to pick me up. I sit at the back and endure the usual paper and gum being thrown at me, while students have conversations with a swear word in every sentence. By now I know not to complain because it doesn't help anything, and the more I complain the worse it gets.

Once, I told the bus driver. It didn't go well. The kids sitting in front heard and they told all their friends. Now people actually talk to me on the bus as well as throwing things. They don't say nice things, they just swear at me. The bus driver did nothing. He said "You're not on the bus that long. You can just put up with it. It builds character."

When I get off the bus and walk into my house,  it's dark and quiet like always. My mom is still asleep and will be until ten P.M. when she needs to leave for work.

When I was little I used to wake up early to greet my mom when she came home. All I got in return was "hello Jane." Then she would put me back to bed. I wouldn't see her until she left again.

I retreated to my room and did my homework, I made sure to get a few wrong just to stay below the radar.

When I was done, I collapsed on my bed. I felt like crying; I had no friends, my mom didn't care about me and it's too late to start caring; I get bullied in school and out; my dad didn't want me.

These were just some of the thoughts that ran back and forth in my mind for hours. I tried to distract myself but nothing worked.

After my mom left, I started shaking really bad, worse than usual. I felt like my brain was going to explode. If it did, I bet no one would notice. I started feeling like I was going to vomit but nothing was coming up. I had this vibrating feeling in my chest like someone was punching me from the inside.

I stood up and attempted to run to the bathroom. The closest thing to running I got was walking a little faster than my usual pace.

When I looked in the mirror I was as red as firecracker packaging. Every inch of my body was vibrating. My brain was on fire like a cord had been lit and reached my brain. I then felt a bunch of rubber balls banging against the inside of my skull.

The last feeling I ever felt was my brain in pieces.

A/N: This was my first post! I hope you liked it!. I don't know if I will write any more short stories. I know some of the ideas portrayed in this story were a little dark, but they are also very present in the world right now, especially with teens. There are probably errors. I did read through this multiple times, but I probably missed some.