'You know. You were the one that killed em’, freak.'
Right, I’m aware. I’m fucking aware. Stop reminding me.
'You should stop covering that face of yours, everyone knows what’s behind that stupid hair.'
Like hell I would. Just leave me alone, fuckers.
'Hey, why don’t you lift your head up? We can’t see your pretty face if you just keep looking down at the ground like that.'
I didn’t say anything back, I’m a coward after all. When will they go away? Just do what you want and leave, you don’t have to take so long.
'I said lift up your fucking head.' As those words left his mouth, I felt my hair being grabbed and him lifting my head up. And I saw his disgusting grin. God they’re all so fucking ugly.
'Holy shit! Look at his face, we got him good.' They all snickered at his little statement. As they were doing that, the one that was holding my hair, Thomas Finley, threw me back to the ground. Where I scraped my hands and face as I landed.
It hurts.
After getting beat up a bit more, they left. And here I am, just lying on the ground. Like the piece of shit that I am.
I’m nothing.
I stumbled as I got up. They kicked me a few times in the legs so it hurts to walk. Thomas ripped some hair off too. I’m going to have a lot of bruises later.
This is my punishment. I deserve this. This is what I get for all the things I’ve done, so I can’t complain. I don’t have the right to. I just don’t.
But seriously. Is it really worth living?
Because living is painful.
. . .
I opened my eyes. Once I took a second to process where I was, I sat up. My bed, right, I’m in my bed.
I wasn’t sleeping, I had a headache so I just closed my eyes. Should have known this would happen. Out of all the things I could’ve remembered, I remember that.
High school wasn’t the best for me. Well, it was terrible. There was no moment of it that I enjoyed. No friends, teachers didn’t like me too much and I was treated like shit.
There were three guys though, they picked on me from day one. George Zenith, Aaron Jones and Thomas Finley. Bastards. They made my high school years hell. I guess it wasn’t only them, but they were mostly the ones that affected it.
I feel like everyday I came back home injured. I hated them a lot, I’m not sure if I do now. But I hated a lot of people when I was a teenager. Including myself. Those weren’t fun times.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back and change a lot of things from high school. Like those times when I was so rude to Katelyn when she was just trying to help. Or when I practically just gave up when it came to academics. I could have even been brave enough to face those stuck up idiots.
Ever so often, I think back to high school, or just my past in general. I sometimes regret dropping out in my last year, or becoming so addicted to my medication that I had panic attacks when I didn’t have it.
I used to wonder how I even survived, and why I survived. I try not to think about it anymore. But that thought still comes back to me. I hate thinking about it, a lot.
Because when I think about it, the more I think back to it, and the more I want it to have been me instead of them. I’ve pushed away the thought of dying, I’m not in that place anymore. I don’t want to go back.
What am I even doing? Thinking about these stupid memories isn’t going to get me anywhere. It’s not worth it, it’s only going to make me feel worse. Right, I should stop thinking about this.
I went to the kitchen to get some water. I’m thirsty. Like really thirsty, and I have no idea why.
Wait. one weird thing. How the fuck did I even remember what I was thinking that day? Is that even possible? Or did my head just make that up? I have no idea.
Holy, when was the last time I had something to drink? And why the hell do I keep getting such bad headaches? It’s been like this since last week.
Maybe after all these years my body is finally giving up on me. Probably a warning.
Oh well. Not like I can do anything about it.
I put my glass down and just as I was walking away I stubbed my toe into the counter, while holding in a shriek.
Yeah, that’s my karma.
Fuck you world.
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