"Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?"

-k.w

***

The next morning, I wake up to white hot pain in my abdomen and tears streaming down my face in small rivers. I gasp and choke on the pain, my vision blurry and obscured by the water in my eyes. I roll off the bed, onto my hands and knees, gasping for a reprieve from the pain.

Grabbing the small tub of pain killers, I quickly gulp down two, not really caring for the consequences. I wipe at my face furiously, hating myself for succumbing to weakness. I try standing, but a wave of nausea threatens, making me stumble for the nearest bucket.

I barely make it before I'm throwing up yesterday's lunch into the bucket, which isn't much. I only ate an apple yesterday, no breakfast or dinner as I can't stomach much. It's no wonder I'm so skinny. I continue to dry heave, since nothing else is in my stomach to be turfed. I choke on the smell of my bile and the acidic taste in my mouth.

I rush upstairs, into the kitchen and hurriedly fill up a glass of water. I chug down the cool contents, allowing the soothing liquid to wash away the acid in my mouth. I check in the mirror to assess the extent of my injuries. Turning my face, my right cheek is bright purple and blue, add in the dark shadows beneath my eyes and I look like an extra in the movie World War Z.

My shoulder is puffy and an angry red. I think it may be infected, but I couldn't care less. It hurts to move my shoulder too much, so I'll refrain from using my left arm too much. Which is a shame, since I'm left handed. At least it stopped bleeding, though it'll definitely scar.

Lifting up my shirt, I wince as I take in the purple bruise the size of Texas. Right in the center of my stomach, stretching from the top of my belly button to the point between my ribs. I don't even think of touching it, looking at it is painful enough. Moira is definitely getting bolder each time she abuses me, as each new injury is more noticeable than the last.

I drop my shirt and shuffle back down to the basement, knowing I'm probably late for school. The sun is already higher than when I usually wake up. I pull on a pair of dark grey sweat pants and a black tank top. I redress my shoulder wound, then shrug on a grey hoodie. I tie my hair up in a bun and slip on my glasses, after applying some foundation on my bruised cheek.

After putting on some sneakers, I grab my bag and lock the door behind me. I drag myself to school, wishing I didn't have to go to that Hell-hole to become educated. I've probably missed half of first period, but I really couldn't care less, my grades are the only things not suffering in my life.

The bell is ringing for the next period as I walk through the school doors. Students stream out multiple doors, none giving me so much as a second glance. I keep my head down, not bothering to berate the people who bump and elbow me. I feel so weak and in too much pain to actually give a damn.

Since I missed first period, History, I go straight to Science with Mrs Nicolas. I just hope she isn't in a pop quiz mood, 'cause I honestly couldn't do it. Everything is too much. I don't even know why I bothered to come today.

Pointless.

I shuffle into the class, everyone already in their seats, so I have to take the one at the front next to Smelly Steve. His name is actually Sullivan and a really nice guy, but his intense body odour deters everyone. I give him a slight smile as I dump my stuff next to him, causing him to blush and shrink closer to the wall.

I plop down and pull out paper for notes and a pen. As I'm waiting for the teacher to arrive, what is it with teachers, the entire class goes silent. It's as if they're waiting for something, not the teacher that's for sure, they couldn't care less about an education.

An small explosion of pain in my left shoulder causes me to hiss and flinch. The whole class bursts out laughing and I look down, ignoring my throbbing injured shoulder, to find a balled up piece of paper. I know I shouldn't open it, nothing is ever good inside one of those. The only time it said something nice, it was for someone else, but I reach for it anyway.

'I wish your mother had never given birth to you.'

My fingers start to shake as I take in the words. I blink back tears and try to take deep breaths, but it's too late, I can already feel the panic attack upon me. Suddenly clenching my fingers, I try to contain the sudden rush of anger in my system. I blink furiously and try to calm down. They don't know my mother died giving birth to me, but I'm sure they wouldn't care.

I suddenly slump in my seat, giving up. I can't do this no more. I agree with them and really wish my mother never conceived me or I died with her. I breath out in quick, staggering breaths, tears streaming down my face. I can still hear them laughing and flinging insults at me. What did I ever do wrong to deserve this. Why?

"The little bitch is crying!"

"Ugh, why does she even breath."

"She's a complete waste of space."

"Ugly."

"Mistake."

"Stupid."

"Worthless..."

The words float around my head, slowly becoming a noose of depression around my throat. I can't take it. I give up.

I suddenly push my chair back and stand, bringing them to silence. I've never reacted before, so I must both shock and intrigue them. I ignore all the stares and eyes on me. I leave all my belongings at the desk and run out the classroom, bumping into Mrs Nicolas on my way out. I collapse on my knees and I can hear the teacher's concerned voice call out to me as I stand quickly and continue running.

My vision is blurry with liquid, but I don't let that stop me as I push through the school doors, multiple voices echoing after me. I run through the car park and out the school gates, out onto the road. Adrenaline is like a drug in my veins, numbing and surreal. I can no longer feel pain, it surrounds me like a shield to everything, but from myself.

I run, hatred towards myself and shame boiling in my gut, stewing like a poison waiting to act. Only there is no cure and I am the victim. Though strangely I don't care, about anything.

I just wish I was dead...

~•~•~

Deep Chapter. That insult in the letter, I actually had someone say that to me. It's sad how, even though you do nothing to someone, they hurt you at every turn, for no reason at all.

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LilMissImperfection xoxo