I sat up from my desk and left the room with my mouth covered. How humiliating. To have to hear such awful words. From everyone in the class. All I do is mind my own buisness and nothing ever turns out right. I ran down the hallway and turned the corner into the bathroom. I ran into one of the empty stalls and silently cried to myself. I stared at my wrists. I promised I would stop hurting myself, so of course that wasn't the way to solve my problems. If I can't hurt myself, then I might as well hurt someone else...right?
Right. I waited in the stall with myself locked in and my feet on the toilet so nobody knew I was even in here. They paged my name over the loud speaker and told me to report to the office immediatly. Of course I didn't go. Of course they were trying to find me, but they don't really care what hapened to me. Nobody does. All the adults care about is their paycheck, all the boys care about is who's pants they'll get into next, and all the girls care about is how their hair looks. So, I stayed in the stall whilst rantic footsteps trumbled through the hallways and breathless pages were made for the whole school to hear. They would never find me.
Or so I thought. My friend Amira walked into the bathroom. I could tell it was her by the old blue and pink sneakers and small feet. "Harmony?" I heard her voice say. I reached over and unlocked the stall door. I saw her hockey mask and her perfectly straight burgandy hair falling over her shoulders. She lifted up her mask and flashed a smile. "Hey. I hid from this horrible dark school." I hid my face in my knees. "It's alright Harmony. I'll get you out of here. Come on."
YOU ARE READING
Live Spelled Backwards
HorrorTo decide whether somebody lives or not is better then any drug possible. Even if it means trouble for you.