"You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, not what I've been through."

-anonymous

***

Pain lanced through my cheek as laughter from my so-called 'peers' surrounded me. I made no sound as I clutched me cheek in pain and screwed my eyes shut. I didn't want to see their faces, to witness the clear disgust their eyes hold, to watch them mock me.

"What's wrong nerd!?" a boy calls out, menace in his tone, "Are you gonna cry?"

No.

I shake my head slightly, opening my eyes as I drop to my knees to gather my scattered papers. People start to walk away, becoming disinterested. I wish it it would stay that way. Though as usual, nothing ever goes my way. Someone yanks my ponytail one last time, before leaving me to pick up the pieces of my broken dignity.

Kestrel Meyers.

Notorious bully and overall meathead. Him and his friends are all on the football team, thinking that somehow makes Gods. I think not. Everyone either worships the ground he walks on or fears for their lives. I would be part of the latter category.

He struts down the hallway, laughing with his friends and high-fiving each other. I drop to my knees and gather my scattered papers and stuffing them hurriedly into my shoulder bag. I stand and dust off my skirt, trying to straighten my scruffy appearance.

A cold shiver ripples across my skin, forces me to survey my surroundings. I stop when I realize a tall boy stands at the end of the corridor, watching me intently. That's not creepy at all. But what freaks me out is the lack of disgust or hatred in his expression, though he's too far away for me to see what his eyes hold.

I back away, scuttling into the nearest girls restroom and away from his prying eyes. I sigh when I check out my reflection. A girl with slate grey eyes, framed with dark lashes and thick, black glasses stares back at me. Her expression is sad and half hidden behind honey colored bangs. The rest of my waist length hair is swept up in my standard messy bun, allowing me a clear view of my bruised cheek. The red color stains my pale skin, turning purple around the edges. I always bruised easily and now I have one in the shape of a handprint on my face.

I'm not very interesting to look at. Boring, not extraordinary in the slightest. Besides a few freckles, I'm not very unique. My outfit screams boring. It's not the most stylish, but it covers all my skin. A grey sweater over my white collared blouse and a plain black skirt. Along with skin colored stockings and black pump flats, it's nothing compared to what the other girls in my school wear.

I'm not very pretty either, unlike them. Maybe that's why I'm constantly bullied, because I'm ugly. I know it's not because I'm fat, far from it, I'm practically anorexic. I sigh and try to fix my appearance as best as possible, noticing a thick crack in my right lens, distorting my vision. Now I new new glasses, again. This is going to be my third pair this month and we're not even halfway through yet.

I splash some water on my cheeks, trying to lessen some of the bruising and number the smarting pain. The cold water makes me flinch and when I run my fingertips over the tender flesh, I wince and let out a little gasp at the flash of pain. You would think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not and I doubt I ever will be.

Taking a deep breath a collect what's left of my self-esteem and exit the bathroom. As I do the bell rings, signalling the start of the first period. This is going to be a long day, I can tell. First lesson of the day, History with Mr Richards.

When I reach the class, it's already half full or half empty, if that's how you think, with students. I don't have much choice of where to sit, but I spot an empty desk at the corner of the classroom, furthest from the door. Thanking my lucky stars, I rush towards it before someone else notices the two empty seats and takes them before I have the chance.

I settle down against the window seat, pulling out my stationary and my prized possession, my journal. To others it may not seem like much, but to me, it holds my world. Filled with all sorts, from quotes out of my favourite books to music sheets. I put everything and anything in it. Creative writing, notes, songs, doodles, poems, drawings, you name it. I don't let anyone see what it holds, it's too personal and I'd rather die than share the one private thing I own.

Deciding to finish writing my latest song, I open to the uncompleted lyrics. I have already composed the music to accompany the words and have recorded it on my phone, using my piano. I unlock my phone and scroll through my songs to find the music, wanting to use it to inspire me to finish. Plugging in my earphones, I place the pieces in my ears and press play.

I relax and block out the world, letting the soft notes wash over me. I take out my lucky fountain pen and begin to write, letting the song flow out of me in the form of lyrics on my page.

'You can't understand,
That which you don't know.
You cannot judge my life,
When you don't know what I've been through...

Can you truly say the words you do,
And know the extent they cause me pain.

I have felt the indescribable,
I have suffered more than you know.
You say you know my story,
But have you actually read the words.
Do you actually understand the meaning,
Of the scars and tears I hold...'

"Hey..." a deep voice greets, startling me.

I immediately stop writing and flip my journal closed, hiding it from view. I look up to see the same boy from earlier. He still stares at me now with his curious chocolate pools, no other expression on his handsome face.
I watch him warily as he reaches up and runs his fingers through his dark strands. I take a moment to take him in and I realize he doesn't where much color. Black combat boots, black skinny jeans, black leather jacket, a dark grey tee and a dark grey beanie on his head.

He tilts his head and smiles at me, showing off his perfect teeth. He's even wearing black fingerless biker gloves. His get up screams trouble and I don't understand his curiosity with me.

"The name's Axel. Axel Storm."

~•~•~

Tell me what you think. I hope the lyrics aren't too stupid. Anyway let me know.

Vote/Follow/Comment/Share

LilMissImperfection xoxo