Broken

Chapter 1

It was never supposed to end this way. I may not know how it should have ended, but it sure as hell isn't like this.
I walk into the front doors of my new school, finding my way to the Guidance office. My face is expressing no emotion whatsoever, like it has been for the past 3 weeks. Dull, lifeless, not happy.

I'm not happy.

I find my way into the office, which in my opinion, is way too cheery. Baby blue walls are for a boys nursery, not a school. And the paper orange leaves taped to the wall? What are we, pre schoolers? I roll my eyes and walk up to the desk where Mrs. Kirkley sits. When she sees me, her smile brightens.
"Oh, your here! Goody! I have your schedule printed out and I'll show you your locker!" She chirps.
Wondering how she's so happy at 8:00 in the morning, I stay silent and follow her through the hallways. She keeps babbling on and on about the school, and how I'll love it, and how it's a great experience, blah-blah-blah. I don't really listen. I just examine my surroundings for the nearest exit to run from this hell hole.

See, I would have chose the other school, Mariner High School, but since Northbridge High School is closer and in walking distance, I decided to be enrolled here.

Done with the tour, Mrs. Kirkley shows me to my locker and I go to my class.

Starting new schools suck. Especially when you don't know anybody and look like the loser with no friends. Well, I guess I'm lucky because I am The loser with no friends. And that's exactly how I want it. Because, having friends, is like having to babysit for a 2 year old. Always constantly having to make sure you don't do anything stupid and screw up your "perfect friendship".
Well, that's why I stay away from people.

I walk in to the class, and everyone's eyes are on me. As usual. But, in a few days or so, nobody will notice me. I hand my schedule to Mr. Forman and he looks over it and assigns me a seat.
Everyone just eyes me as I walk to my seat, not making eye contact.
I didn't plan on this happening. I wasn't supposed to be moving to a new school so I could do the same thing I did at my old school. Seclude myself. Ignore the whispers. Cut my wrists in the girls bathroom. Have conversations with the 80 year old janitor when he walks in on you crying in the janitors closet in the middle of 5th period.
I'm not the haughty person that thinks I don't need friends. I'm just that person that hopes that they stay away for their own sake because nobody would ever want to talk to a screwed up girl like me.
And if they do, if they treat me nice or compliment me on my outfit, which, by the way, is red skinny jeans, a Nirvana t-shirt, and a red beanie on my just-had-sex messed up brown hair, if they do even the slightest chance make me feel like I'm welcome, it's all over the next day.
At the end of the day, they are going to ignore you and treat you like trash.
Because you're not good enough.

You're never good enough.