Bullies kill, words scar, rumours destroy.

My hands were shaking as I clutched the microphone between my sweaty palms. My breathing was becoming heavier and heavier as my eyes traced over the mob of impatient hooligans that stood before me. Their eye's were following my every move, like they were the predators and I was their helpless prey. Their eyes taunted me yet they held a waft of curiosity to what I had to say. Each and every face held the same sickening grin, and the longer I watched the bigger the grins grew. Everything was silent and all that could be heard were the faint, impatient sighs of my intensive killers. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, I thought I was going to explode. I wasn't nervous, or scared, I was truly petrified and even that didn't describe what I was feeling. Was this real? Was I really going to do this? Is it really worth it? I held the microphone up to my mouth and held my breath. This was it. I was going to put an end to the unbearable pain. I opened my mouth to speak and-